#pats navy shit

[cinellieroll]

☆ random obey me headcanons!

lucifer, mammon and simeon ♡

part two (asmodeus, levi, barbatos)

part three (beelzebub, belphegor, solomon)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: a few spoilers ahead from the main story! also one SLIGHT nsfw on simeons part???

small note: i only started writing on tumblr now so idk much on how ppl do those line thingies on the words and then it teleports to a diff post so if anyone knows how to do it please teach me! thank you :3

☆ lucifer:

- generally has a thing for turtlenecks. if you open his closet you'll see a bunch of turtlenecks in there. lucifer is a very conservative man after all.

- speaking of closet, he definetely has a color code for his clothing. blacks, reds, navy blues, anything dark

- you'll never catch him wearing anything revealing. especially his legs. man keeps em hidden.

- has a very sensitive nose. he always scolds mammon and asmo for wearing such strong cologne. he has great sense of smell in general (the bitch can smell anything) and automatically knows when trouble is near.

- EXTREMELY petty when he doesn't get his morning coffee. if he misses a day without it an extra line will appear on his forehead.

- gifts you souvenirs when he enters the human world. claims he's here for business because diavolo told him but we all know that's not the only reason why he came up there.

- he doesn't like writing with modern pens and only settles with quills. he still has his old quill from the celestial realm and keeps it hidden somewhere.

- almost gave head pats to luke once.

- his nose is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL and his side profile too. he has a nose bump for sure and i will die on this hill.

- he's not a big fan of creamy foods like carbonara or anything with cream in general. if he's eating sweets he prefers the icing to be less flavorful. what do you expect? he's a black coffee lover after all.

☆ mammon:

- room is always a fucking mess, but he cleans when he procrastinates so if you ever enter his room and he's all quiet and cleaning just don't disturb him for a while.

- buys bootleg merch for levi for no reason. one time he found this cheap ruri chan stuffy on sale for like 150 grimm and decided to buy it.

- has fucking shit hand writing bro. sometimes it's small, sometimes it's big but most of the time it's ass balls. like why does your k and h look the same?

- he cracks his knuckles and joints often and can't go without a day doing it atleast once. it's kinda hot tbh lol

- when he's in a happy mood he'll sing in like a high pitched way. idk how to explain it but i just see him doing that especially when he's on cooking duty

- sleeps really late he could almost rival levi on it. surprisingly his eyebags aren't that visible though.

- has really pretty features like long eyelashes, plump lips and visible collarbones. eat your heart out asmo xoxo

- convinced himself he'll never ever like or listen to human world songs until he heard you blasting some music in your room. he was singing that song in his head for days on end but refused to ask you what the title was

- he's a very clumsy guy and often drops small things especially during class like his ballpen, eraser or that pack of bubblegum lucifer ended up confiscating

- before you arrived, he liked to vape or juul when he's stressed or felt lonely but now he only spends his time thinking of you when he feels down.

☆ simeon:

- when he turned into a human he had thoughts of becoming a teacher in christian education but realized it's better if he owned a cafe instead.

- he sometimes joins luke during his baking lessons with barbatos even though he already knows all the steps

- occasionally invites you for sleepovers and buys card / board games for you guys to play with solomon and luke! either he or solomon are always end up being the winners everytime though

- always and i mean ALWAYS willing to teach you something when he knows it. baking, writing, recent lessons, etc

- once the exchange program ended he started writing more and more, especially poetry. and mostly wrote about you and how much he misses you <3.

- started making diary entries after the aftermath of the celestial war.

- during quiet nights, simeon often thinks what it'd be like if he was really close with the brothers.

- his eyes are lowkey creepy sometimes when he looks at you for too long. it's like he's trying to detect every sin you've committed.

- idk why i thought of this but his teeth are literally so pearly and perfect but he doesn't really smile with them in view.

- unintentionally moans sometimes. like when he sits down after a long day you just start hearing a soft "ah~" out of nowhere..

[eisforeidolon]

Question: You guys have been so close for so long, what would you say each other's greatest character trait is and why?

Jared: As people? And I have to say this in front of him?

[Jensen theatrically turns to Jared, crosses his leg, and props his chin on his hand to listen]

Jared: I mean, where do I start, honestly? But I'd say one of the things that has been abundantly obvious to me, and I relied on for almost the last twenty years? Is he doesn't give up. He doesn't give up - not on a project, not on a person. He just goes, like, alright, one step at a time, let's do it. Not that he doesn't get down, I mean, we're all humans, we have good days and bad days [Jensen nods]. But when the shit hits the fan, he's - I always said he'd be a good, like, Navy Seal or something. 'Cause he's just like, okay, what's next? I can't change that, what are we doing? Like, didn't you just hear, the camera broke, the stage is on fire. And he's like, alright, well, can we get something from tomorrow's work? Like, he's just sort of like, alright - he goes. And that, that - I don't want to say it's confidence, because it doesn't come from a place of arrogance, or some ego? It just comes from alright then what can we do? And so it's infectious to go like, well, that guy over there, Jensen, he's still ready to get after it, even though everything went wrong and everything broke and everything's on fire, he's still ready to carry on. To borrow the name of an episode. So I think that that permeates a lot of his life, whether things are great or things are not great? He just goes, like, okay, cool, what's next? I can't change that, so what can I do, what can we do? And he doesn't put - he's not one of those drill sergeant, hey, I'm ready to do it, you better do it. But you see him doing and well, if he can do it, then maybe I can, too. So it's a very hopeful attitude, that I really appreciated. [Jensen pats Jared's leg, Jared pats his back]

Jensen: There are many, so I will pick one. And one that I admire and I, you know, wish I had more of is his appetite for knowledge in the things he becomes even remotely interested in. He can take a subject, any topic, and wonder about it. And he doesn't continue to wonder very long. I just kind of sit in that wonderment for a while, oh, that's - I wish I knew more about that. Oh well. Jared dives deep. And almost in just an insatiable appetite way of wanting to know more and that zest for knowledge and life is - it's inspiring? But it's just so unique and powerful for somebody to have that and have that drive to wanna know so much more about so many different - I mean the guy is insanely intelligent in a way that - I always knew he was smart, I always knew he had a really great head on his shoulder, but. Shoulders. Two just stunningly muscular shoulders. But he gets an interest in something and he just digs in so, like, amazingly. And any subject - if it's academics, if it's wanting to know about - like I'm always like, hey Jared, what supplements should I be on? Because I know he knows all about it. Or hey man, I'm looking for a book right now, what are your recommendations? And he'll give me thirteen, fourteen recommendations. He just has - his brain works in just such a brilliant way that I've always been in awe of how he's able to do that and do it consistently. You know he doesn't burn out, he doesn't tire out with the zest that he has for wanting to know more about life, and it too is infectious. And I was it was more infectious, I wish I would be infected with it completely. But I get a little bit of it and it's inspiring for me to wanna just know more and learn more and have that desire for knowledge the way he does. It's really really impressive and I think it's had an amazing impact on his life and the way that he can relate to so many different - you put him in a room with anybody and he will have a researched knowledgeable way of communicating with just about anybody and everybody on almost any topic. And that to me is just incredible, so. And again, that's one of many things that I could say, but that one just popped to the front. [Jared squeezes Jensen's knee and then puts his hand on his back]

[warping-realities]

Brotherhood - A βΓΦ Story

This story was made with the approval of the absolutely fantastic @johnbrand and takes place in the universe he created in Catch (βΓΦ), which I totally recommend everyone read before diving into this one. Not just to make this one easier to read, but because he’s a really damn good writer!

“I could chill here all day doing this with you,” said the skinny eighteen-year-old with light brown hair, rocking a navy blue polo tucked into perfectly pressed khaki shorts while he kissed a shirtless ginger wearing nothing but sweatpants.

“Gavin, this is the first sign of acknowledgment your brother has shown in over two months since you’ve been at the same college as him. You gotta go.”

“Then come with me, Pat! It'll be way easier to face Trenton with you by my side!”

“Hell no, I’m not getting myself stuck at one of those frat parties voluntarily!”

“And you still wanna drag me along!”

“Babe, I was just kidding! If necessary, I’ll go over there, but I think it should be a moment just for you and your brother!”

“Fine! But don’t think I’ll be hanging around for long!”

…..

“What a damn party, Mr. President!” praised the handsome dude close to twenty, with light brown hair and a muscular build, rocking a light blue shirt and summer shorts.

“Thanks, bro, but I gotta say I’m bummed my special guest hasn’t shown up yet,” replied the slightly older blonde dude, just as jacked, wearing a white shirt and pristine white shorts.

“Special guest? Looks like everyone’s here…”

“Oh, but this is a super special guest, Trent. Someone I think should’ve been introduced to our fraternity a long time ago, but, you know, my own recruitment chairman hasn’t brought him to me.”

“I’m your recruitment chairman. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your brother, of course! Why the hell didn’t you bring him to us?”

“I… I… it’s because… how do you know about Gavin?”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Trenton.” said the blonde guy. ��Did you really think you could hide this from me? Although the real question is, why?”

“Prez… you gotta understand Gavin isn’t like us… he’s not fraternity material…”

“Trent, he’s your brother, he’s got the same potential as you.”

“Sorry to disagree, but no. I’m the odd one in my family, my dad and my brother… dude, you’ll see. But honestly, you look way more like my brother than he does, Chance.”

“Thanks, bro, makes me wanna almost forgive you for keeping stuff from me. And I forget you’re still out of the loop on everything…”

“Out of the loop on what?”

“You’ll find out soon… oh look who’s coming! I knew someone who is your brother would have some guts.” Chance grinned, pointing to the young guy approaching. Gavin looked pretty uncomfortable but walked into their territory with his head held high and a defiant look. “Why don’t you go greet him, bro?”

“Alright, but honestly, I don’t see this conversation going anywhere.” Trent replied, a bit annoyed, as he walked toward his brother. “What the hell are you doing here, Gavin?”

“Good morning to you too, brother. And you’re the one who sent me that message on Instagram inviting me to come, like you didn’t have my cell number.”

“You dumbass, it was one of the guys from my fraternity who sent that. If I wanted to talk to you, you’d know it.”

“I guess that makes sense since you’ve barely talked to me since we got in the car at Dad’s house. Is this because of Patrick?”

“Dude, I’m not talking about your boyfriend in the middle of my frat party. We’ve established that I didn’t invite you here, so why don’t you just bounce?”

“Why would one of your bros call me here?” Gavin asked, making a quote gesture with his hand.

“I don’t know, maybe to pull a prank on me, make me look like an idiot with a brother like you… just go away, Gavin.”

“And what if I don’t wanna?”

“What…?”

“Well, I was invited, wasn’t I? So maybe I wanna stick around and see what my big bro finds so damn interesting about this place!”

“You can’t be serious, you little shit, I…” Trent didn’t finish his sentence before being interrupted by one of his bros.

“Hey, Trent, dude!”

“What’s up, Bear???”

“I need your help here, Beer Pong competition with two hot chicks.”

“Just a sec, bro.” he replied before turning angrily to his younger brother. “Do whatever you want, but if you make me look bad, I’ll mess you up, and Dad isn’t here to protect you, you crybaby.” He concluded as he walked away.

“I can’t believe I had to go through that.” Gavin thought, retracing his steps, only to be blindsided when two of Trent’s huge bros sprinted past him in some kind of dumb game, spilling a ridiculous amount of beer all over him.

“Sorry, little bro… my bad!”

“Rip and Skip, you big idiots, the kid is soaked! Sorry, man, these two are just brainless. I’m Chance, president of the frat, and you’re Gavin, Trent’s little bro. Nice to meet you, Gav.”

“I’d prefer if you called me Gavin.”

“Negative, you’re my brother’s brother, so we’re family, and in family, everyone needs a nickname. Chance isn’t actually my name, though sometimes I forget that. But no one, not even my dad, calls me Conrad. So you’re Gav, come with me, little bro, let’s get you cleaned up and into some fresh clothes.”

“Thanks for the kindness, Conrad… Chance…” Gavin quickly corrected himself, seeing a dangerous glint in the much bigger guy’s eyes. “But I was about to leave, I’ll clean up in my dorm.”

“Negative again, Gav. You just got here, and I’m not letting you leave without getting to know a bit about the fraternity, and what kind of host would I be if I let two morons mess you up and then just leave without cleaning up the mess? Come with me.” Chance said, walking toward the big house. Not wanting to be rude, Gavin followed him.

“So… you were the one who sent me the invite through my brother’s Instagram?”

“Guilty, but it was with good intentions. You’re not a legacy since you’re not the son of a brother, but we don’t usually let brothers of brothers pass by unnoticed.”

“You… want me… want me in your fraternity?” Gavin asked, shocked.

“Why the surprise? Your brother is one of my chairmen; it’s natural to think about having you here with us.” Chance replied, leading Gavin to a room that looked like it had been hit by an explosion. There were clothes scattered all over the place, books and study materials in the corners, along with empty beer bottles and energy drink cans.

“Dude, what a pigsty, but your brother isn’t the most organized bro in the world. Though he makes up for it with charisma.”

“This is Trenton’s room?”

“Yep, normally he’d be sharing with another brother, but our selection process this year isn’t over yet. Here’s your chance to reconnect.”

“I… he’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want any kind of relationship with me. I don’t think forcing myself into his life is gonna change anything.”

“Sit down and dry off.” Chance said, offering a towel that Gavin could’ve sworn hadn’t been washed recently. Still, not wanting to be rude, he took it from the other man’s outstretched hand and started to wipe himself down, feeling the musk of his brother spreading over his body as his dick started to harden. “Ugh, gross, what kind of reaction is that from smelling my brother’s body?” he thought, letting the towel drop as a wave of numbness washed over him, leaving him frozen.

“Finally,” Chance exclaimed cheerfully. “You’re in for one hell of a trip, little bro! But you and I are gonna enjoy every second of it!” He said, getting closer to Gavin’s frozen body and putting his own shades on the kid’s face. “I love this part, but something in the pledges’ eyes bothers me, so it’s better this way.”

“You must be wondering what the hell is going on, right, Gav? So, we’ve got little time for me to explain because soon you won’t even remember this little chat. So let’s start with the reasons. The most obvious one is I can’t let a nerdy little queer run around and tarnish my fraternity’s name just because he’s the brother of one of my chairmen. The second is that this woke culture, feminists, wimps, and communists have been trying to undermine the secular structures of our institutions for years, so we found a way to ensure our continuity. Ahhh, it’s starting, nice calves, little bro! They really remind me of mine… hehehehe.

Anyway, what this bunch of wimps forget is that our main goal has always been to create the right kind of men for society, proactive men, capable of making tough decisions and shaping our country. They look from the outside and think a fraternity is just parties and fun, but it’s from fraternities that the great politicians, military leaders, and businessmen of our beloved nation have come, men that even their patriotism the snowflakes dare to criticize. Just like your brother, when I met Trent last year, he was worse than you; he and Bear, who at the time insisted on being called Bernard, they were organizing some annoying protest against the toxic masculinity culture of fraternities, but it only took one touch from me on a prepped pen and boom, two new brothers ready to mess with that bunch of losers who, without their two leaders, scattered quickly. Wow, this core is looking way better, little bro, I’m thinking about where we’re gonna place you. Maybe on the Lacrosse team with your big bro.

Ah, Trent, the brother I never had, about to become my VP, and suddenly I find out he’s hiding a younger brother from me. You might not see the implications of this, little bro, especially now with billions of nanobots running through your body and adjusting it to my parameters, a younger brother to keep my legacy alive, which should’ve happened the moment you stepped foot in this college or any other with a Beta Gamma Phi chapter, but Trent hid you from us. What led the people above me to two conclusions: either the shame of having someone like you as a brother led him to this, especially since he hasn’t been initiated into all the mysteries and rituals of our fraternity, or my DNA and my traits didn’t total overdrive what he was before, which could be concerning. Either way, the solution to both problems is the same: you, or better yet, what you’re becoming. If there are no more faggy meek little brothers, there’ll be no reason for shame and there won’t be any residual memory of an old life that doesn’t matter anymore. And we’re almost there! Damn, little bro, you ended up bigger than I expected, I think you’re gonna crush me on the football team, and that’ll be a real kick in the ass for Trent, who I get to spend more time with you than he does, little bro, a small punishment for hiding you from me!” Chance finished with a nearly psychotic grin.

Gavin, for his part, didn’t stand a chance. As the torrent of technology invaded every cell of his body, conforming his DNA to Chance's primordial traits with just a few tiny differences to distinguish the two, his muscles expanded and reshaped, taking on aesthetic proportions that no eighteen-year-old could reach without serious dedication and effort or… the perfect genetics for that. At the same time, his mind was flooded with a whirlwind of new memories that quickly erased the old ones. Afternoons spent reading Zamyatin’s works became afternoons in the gym focusing on achieving the aesthetic physique of Zyzz; the knowledge that he got into college on a scholarship for his grades turned into the knowledge that it was all due to the athletic feats he accomplished. The interest in studying to become a lawyer focused on environmental causes faded into a vague, distant thought of working in finance or something that would make him easy money when college was over. The fights and arguments with his older brother, with their dad needing to intervene, transformed into moments of partying and camaraderie, with the two uniting against their much smaller and frailer progenitor. Finally, the tender, passionate kisses shared with his high school boyfriend who came to college with him turned into an endless list of young women deflowered and discarded and an annoying roommate he couldn’t wait to get rid of. When his body hit its peak and his mind was completely rewritten, he came in his own underwear, and a smile spread across his face. A smile reflected in the face of the biggest idol he had on campus, he could love his brother, but he wanted to be just like Chance, which ironically he was, though he’d never know it.

“Flex for me!” was Chance’s last command before Gavin’s reboot was complete.

“Daydreaming, little bro? Your brother sent me to check on you; dude, this room is a pigsty. When you’re officially living here, I expect a bit more organization.”

“What’s up, Chance, you sound like my dad!” replied the muscular guy, relaxing his flexed muscles and grinning, before taking the red cup the older man offered him.

“Someone’s gotta be responsible around here, and if it’s not the president, I wonder who it will be. Something I’m gonna need to remind your brother and you too if you ever wanna be in my position. Now go take a shower and throw on some decent clothes, the party’s been going on for a while, and all the other pledges are already there. Just because you’re the brother of a chairman doesn’t mean you get any privileges, or more privileges, since apparently your brother’s so in the loop he’s letting you crash here.”

“If you had my roommate, you’d get why I’m running away to here.”

“Don’t worry, soon that’ll be sorted out. Now hurry up and get ready, you stink.”

….

“So, did you put a little fear of God into the kid? I swear he’s a damn insubordinate little shit, but it seems like he listens to you.”

“Well, every good wolf knows to obey the alpha of the pack.”

“Fuck off, Chance, everyone in this damn place is an alpha.”

“But some are more alpha than others, little bro! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised a game to Kip and Skip. Good luck with our little bro, but between us, by tomorrow night he’ll be in for sure!”

“Of course, he might be a cocky little shit, but he’s my cocky little shit of a brother, he was born to be here.”

“True! Why don’t you guys join us? From what I saw in his school videos, he’s got a good throwing arm, even though he’s here for the rowing team, I think he could be a solid backup for me in intramurals.”

“Imagine the arrogance if he becomes the QB of the frat team…” Trent muttered to himself while watching the president wander off.

“Well, it’s a family trait.” Gav replied, approaching his brother. “So what’s up, big bro?”

“So, the Prez had a chat with you?”

“Man, Chance is so cool!”

“He let you suck his dick, huh? You’re looking way too happy…”

“Ew, dude, don’t hit me with that fairy stuff!”

“Well, the way you talk about him, it sounds like you’re dying for him to get in your pants!”

“Is it just me or is my big bro getting jealous?”

“Ha, as if you’d want that.”

“Shit, speaking of fags… what’s he doing here?” Gav commented to his brother, spotting a skinny redhead approaching.

“Who’s the dweeb?”

“He’s the reason I’m crashing in your room every night. He’s my fag roommate. I’m pretty sure he stares at me while I sleep, that creepy fairy. I’ll kick him outta here!” Gav said, getting ready to boot the other guy, but was stopped by the frat president’s voice.

“Catch!” he shouted, tossing a football in the kid’s direction, which he surprisingly caught before being swarmed by a crowd of frat bros and hot chicks congratulating him for the catch. When everyone pulled away, it revealed a strong redhead wearing a green shirt stepping up to the two.

“Not bad for a wrestling team member, huh?” he said, oozing arrogance.

“Hey, Rick. You certainly took your sweet time getting here.”

“As if I didn’t know you were sleeping until just now in Trent’s room. By the way, thanks for letting Gav crash there tonight, Trent, I’ve been wanting to hook up with that hot Tri Delta girl for weeks.”

“No problem, little bro. Now toss the ball over here, and let’s show all these hotties what the βΓΦ bros are made of.”

…..

“And how many times did you need to pull that tactic? Anyone I know?” asked the new VP of the fraternity as he prepared to take over his position in the first meeting of the semester after the new members joined, glancing at his brother and his best friend giving him a thumbs up.

“A few, unfortunately. There’s all sorts of problems and unwanted people we gotta deal with to keep the frat running smoothly, and nothing better than solving those problems by signing them to our hall of facilitators, but no, no one you know, bro. I’m super proud to have you as VP, Trent. Especially knowing Gav is gonna follow in your footsteps. You two and Rick are more than just the little bros life gave me; I consider you guys part of me, bro!”

“I didn’t know you were such a softy and sentimental, bro!” Trent replied with a mischievous grin.

“Shut up, you ashoole. I’m sure one day you’ll understand what I’m talking about. Once a βΓΦ always a βΓΦ!” he shouted to the gathered members before officially starting the chapter meeting. Being answered in unison by everyone present.

“Once a βΓΦ , always a βΓΦ.”

[momotonescreaming]

Part One

“Jeff. Jeffers.” Eddie starts, as soon as he opens the door to Jeff’s bedroom, ignoring the way it slams into the wall with the force of it. “I am about to lose my shit.”

“So a normal Saturday, then?” Jeff replies, looking up from the music magazine he’s flipping through, not moving from where he’s reclined across his bed.

Navy blue comforter, pale grey sheets, tucked in tight. His mother’s influence, Eddie knows. Jeff’s mom is a good woman, is cool with the band, and the metal, and the DnD — but she’s a total neat freak. So Jeff makes his bed perfectly everyday, so she won’t barge into his room and do it for him. He bought himself a Motorhead poster from a record store in Bloomington once, and his mom framed it.

So there was Eddie’s room, with all his posters and banners haphazardly tacked to the walls and stuck to the mirror; and then there was Jeff’s, with his carefully curated selection of framed posters. Not very metal, Eddie thought. Jeff always said that if that’s what it took for his mom to accept to metal music? He’d take it.

Eddie shuts the door behind him, making sure it closes with a swift kick of his socked foot, before turning back to his best friend.

“Worse than normal, Jeffy-boy.” Eddie says, emphasising with his hands before gripping them tightly. “I bumped into Henderson at Melvalds this morning and he would not shut the fuck up about Harrington the entire time he trapped me in conversation.”

“Ah,” Jeff simply replies, closing his magazine and placing it off to the side, out of the way. “So it’s a Harrington breakdown today? I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Jeff,” Eddie says, trying to sound stern with all the emphasis on the word, but he’s smiling. Watches as Jeff pats an empty spot on the mattress next to him. He rolls his eyes, playing it up, before flopping face first onto the bed beside Jeff. He groans into the mattress, a long, drawn out sound, and can hear Jeff chuckling at the sound of it. “Please.”

Jeff pats his shoulder comfortingly, hand warm and steady, before Eddie rolls over. Stays laying down, and looks up at the swirly patterns of Jeff’s popcorn ceiling.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Jeff laughs, before turning to look down at Eddie. “So. Harrington.”

Eddie groans again, ignoring the sound of Jeff’s laughter. “I made the mistake of asking Henderson what he was doing later — trying to make fucking small talk, or something — and apparently our little sheepie is hanging out with Steve Harrington.”

“Wait,” Jeff says with a start, his brows furrowing. “Harrington hangs out with freshman nerds? Willingly? And he knows Dustin?”

“Fucking apparently,” Eddie exclaims, throwing his hands up into the air and letting them fall back down onto the mattress with a thump. “Henderson would not shut up about how cool it was Steve was hanging out with him, like he was trying to brag about it to me. Asking me if I fucking knew Steve Harrington like, hello? I live in Hawkins, everyone knows who Harrington is.”

“I was gonna ask if he was lying,” Jeff starts, bringing his hand up to his jaw to absently press and pick at his skin as he thinks. “But you’d think he’s smart enough to lie about something believable, at the very least.”

“He’s definitely lying,” Eddie replies, sighing, letting all the air exit his lungs in one slow exhale. “Because I cannot handle it being the truth. Harrington being hot, rich, charming, and nice to nerds like us? No way.”

“I was wondering when the crush was going to make it’s appearance,” Jeff replies, finally letting himself flop down beside Eddie. Rumpling his nicely made sheets, not caring as his abandoned magazine falls to the floor.

“Oh it’s been here the whole time Jeffothy,” Eddie says, stretching his legs out before letting them relax again. Picking at the navy blue fabric beneath him. “As soon as Dustin said Harrington’s name I felt my traitorous heart speed up.”

Eddie wasn’t lying and he a little felt ridiculous about it. Like some leading lady in a rom-com, the second the words Steve Harrington left Henderson’s mouth he felt his heart clench, his pulse quicken, and a horrid combo of shame and wanting curl around his stomach. His crush on Steve was always there, simmering in the recesses of his mind like the burning embers of a fire. Just waiting for something to come along and set it alight.

“And that’s the main reason you’re losing your shit?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, sounding a little defeated, before perking himself up and sitting up, the mattress bouncing beneath him. Pushing those thoughts to the side. Thoughts of Steve Harrington and his amazing hair. His charming smile and warm eyes. Thoughts about him leaning in towards Eddie as they make conversation, so much Eddie can smell his cologne, his shampoo. And Steve will ask him questions about DnD, and actually sound interested about what Eddie would say back. Shaking his head a little, Eddie forces himself to not get lost in the fantasy.  “But enough about me, Sir Jeffington the Just. Any progress with Chrissy?”

Jeff just snorts, looking up at Eddie. “You say that like there’s progress to be had.”

“Come on,” Eddie starts, nudging Jeff’s side. “There’s gotta be something.”

“Not really,” He replies, taking a deep breath. “I stare at her in the halls at school like a lovesick fool and I don’t think she even knows who I am. There’s no way one of the cheerleaders knows my name.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Eddie replies, pushing himself up off of Jeff’s bed and heads over to his desk, pushed up under the window. He had started to feel that itch under his skin, the twitching of his fingers, that feeling that he just couldn’t sit still anymore. So he moves to the desk, seats himself on Jeff’s nice office chair with the wheels, and fidgets with the mini’s he has scattered on the desk. “You’re hot and charming as hell, at least one of them has gotta know your name.”

“Not Chrissy though,” Jeff says, self-deprecating, pushing his socked foot along the carpet from where it hangs off the bed, gathering static. “Come on.”

Eddie sighs, long and drawn out and dramatic — turning into more of a groan at the end. They had done this song and dance before, Eddie hyping Jeff up, and his best friend responding with self deprecation. Jeff was a guy who was confident in himself, in his hobbies and interests — but when it came to love, he faltered.

Eddie could understand. They were both freaks who’ve never dated anyone, with crushes on two of the most popular teens in Hawkins. Peak conformists. It was never gonna happen but Eddie wanted.

“Fine.” He concedes. “We’re both pathetic, happy now?”

“Thrilled,” Jeff snorts, before sobering. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up, y’know? She’s with Jason and she’s not about to dump him to start looking my way.“

“I know,” Eddie replies, voice also sobering, so there’s something quieter about it now. He gently spins on the chair, pushing himself back and forth with his feet. Trying not to fidget too much, trying not to pick and rip at his nails. “I’m just trying to live vicariously through you a little because I am not handling my conversation with Henderson well. Chrissy just seems one step closer to us than Harrington. At least she’s still at Hawkins High and we actually see her on the regular. But what if Henderson is telling the truth and Steve like, picks him up from Hellfire? Leaning on the door frame, swinging his keys around his fingers, raising an eyebrow all sexy-like. Looking at me from across the room.”

“You think Henderson knows Chrissy as well?” Jeff jokes, sitting up and crossing a leg underneath himself. “Think he could put in a good word?”

Eddie snorts, rotating one of Jeff’s minis between his hands. “Definitely. That nerd is slowly collecting all the sexy jocks in Hawkins, just for us.”

There’s a moment of silence, slowly thickening in the air between them before Jeff sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “What would I even say to her? Hey Chrissy, I’m the DnD freak who thinks you’re super hot. I definitely haven’t started daydreaming about going to basketball games just so I can watch you cheer, wanna go out?”

“Oh my God, Jeff,” Eddie laughs, wiggling his legs, unable to contain himself.

“I know,” Jeff exhales with a laugh.

“When I asked if there was any progress on the Chrissy front,” Eddie says, laughing. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because it’s embarrassing! I’m so down bad it’s ridiculous.”

“This is a safe space, Jeffrey,” Eddie adds, nodding sagely. “I told you about how I started selling after games last year just so I could have an excuse to watch Harrington play. Did you see his thighs? Woof.”

“I did not see his thighs because I was busy lying to the others about how you were there because it was prime selling time, and you needed the extra cash to help Wayne,” Jeff adds, laughing., voice dropping into something more coy. Teasing. “And you definitely weren’t there because you were drooling over the idea of Harrington crushing your head in between his thick, sweaty, thighs.”

“As is my right, Jeff!” Eddie exclaims, feeling a little lighter, giddier, electric. A buzzing under his skin. Eddie launches himself off of the chair and towards Jeff — wrapping his arms around his waist and laughing all the while. Sending them both crashing into the mattress, rumpling Jeff’s neatly made bed even further. His face is pressed into Jeff’s chest, fabric of his Black Sabbath shirt soft against Eddie’s skin.

It always makes him feel better, talking about this sort of stuff with Jeff, letting it out, instead of holding it in. Eddie can feel Jeff laughing, his chest shaking underneath him as he wrestles Eddie off. Not hard enough to hurt.

He rolls off of Jeff, letting go of his waist, laughing as Jeff softly kicks him in the leg.

“I really can’t blame you though,” Jeff admits, looking over at Eddie. “Chrissy in that cheerleader skirt of hers is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s all about the thighs, I told you!” Eddie exclaims, laughing as he playfully shoves at Jeff again. Gripping the sleeves of his shirt, gently pushing and pulling him. His best friend lets himself be moved, used to Eddie’s shenanigans by now. “You want to give her a thigh hickey so bad, don’t ya, Jeffrey? Or maybe it’s her ass? All perky and round from cheer.”

Eddie cackles as Jeff covers his face with his hands, groaning, and almost definitely flustered.  He drags his hands down his face, drawing out the groan, before tuning to Eddie.

“I’m trying so hard not to get too gross about this, dude,” Jeff starts. “But you are not helping.”

“Nothing wrong with being a little gross with your friends,” Eddie says, slowly stopping his shoving at Jeff, moving his hand to gently pick at a stray thread. “I know you’re not, like, gonna be gross with her. I mean, unless she likes it.”

“Eddie!” Jeff exclaims, although he’s smiling, as he shoves his best friend off the bed.

Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Missing Jacket.

Summary: You take notice of Leon's missing jacket.

Warnings: Fluff, sleepy/clingy Leon.

This is just something I quickly finished after going into my notes to write a completely different fic about Leon.

Leon Masterlist

~☆~

You moved quietly throughout the house, trying your hardest not to wake up Leon from his much needed sleep.

He had returned from Spain the night before, immediately seeking out you and your shared bed. You had noticed his exhausted state as soon as your eyes landed on him, his eyes were droopy and purple underneath, he was paler than usual, and his usual careful and alert form was now hunched over knocking into things. You gladly ran up to him for your much awaited reunion then took his hand in your own and led him to the bathroom, running him a bath and sitting on your knees next to him so that you could bathe him(where he occasionally dozed off), then you handed him his pajamas and layed down for the night. Leon fell asleep almost instantly.

When you awoke that morning, he had his arms wrapped securely around you, not wanting anything to happen to you. Sadly, you untangled yourself from him and worked on cleaning the house. Which is what landed to you shuffling through his duffel bag and putting any of his clothes in a basket so that they could be washed.

As you picked up a navy blue t-shirt, you missed the way Leon had entered the dining room, making his way over to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, causing you to let out a squeal from the fright.

"Leon!" You yelled. "You scared the shit out of me...."

Leon let a smile fall on his face, mimicking the one that you had as well. You could feel him rub his cheek against the nape of you neck before nudging his head into the crook of it. "Sorry.." He whispered.

You pat a hand on his arm then moved back to collecting clothes. "...it's okay."

As you searched through the bag, you noticed the odd disappearance of a certain jacket. You knew that Leon hadn't worn it inside because it's not hung up next to the front door or haphazardly thrown onto the couch, nor had you peeled it off of him when you bathed him last night.

"Where's your jacket?" You asked.

Leon's head rose for a second, leaning over your shoulder to look at the duffel bag sitting in front of you on the dining room table. "Lost it."

"Aw, I loved that jacket."

Leon let a chuckle escape his lips. "I did too, but I can get another."

"It won't be the same." You over-dramatically "greived" over the jacket.

"Let's go back to bed." Leon told you, already pulling you with him all the way to your bedroom.

"But your laundry!"

~☆~

This is literally the only GIF where I could get a full view of his jacket.

[hopeluna-archived]

Now for the important question....ass or boobs?

Characters: The brothers + the dateables

CW: crack, my dumb ass imao

A/N: i'm so sorry about this, just ignore this

M.list

Lucifer

I- looks at you like "I don't get paid enough for this shit"

Actually he doesn't get paid at all. #justiceforSingleMom

But......boobs.

They are just....boobs yk? They're so fun and soft and sexy - Lucifer's inner thoughts

Pls leave him alone MC, he has important work to do :')

Mammon

He's a ass man and he's proud of it 🤚🏼

Mammon loves ass. Flat ass, non-flat ass, medium flat ass

He appreciates it all

You might catch him staring at your ass if you're observant enough

Will deny it tho, it looked at him first

Levi

Thighs.

Leviathan, Avatar of Envy, The third born, Admiral of Hell's navy and Thigh man

If given permission, will bury his face in your thighs

Its heaven to him. Pun intended

Maybe leave some bite marks on them if he's feeling particularly brave ;)

Satan

BOOBS.

No I will not elaborate

Goodbye.

Asmodeus

Boobs. And ass. And thighs.

He's a slut

He'll take everything you throw at him

Still Asmo has a good point

Why choose one when you can love all of them?

Beelzebub

I cannot explain this but ass.

Idk Beel just seems like a very ass person

Like listen he's not innocent as everyone makes him out to be

He's just a wholesome guy. So like just imagine him casually slapping you in the ass out of nowhere

And you're just like 😀⁉️

And he's just like 🤷🏻‍♂️💁🏻‍♂️🍔

Belphegor

Certified user of boobs as pillows

Yk how you smack the pillow a few times to fluff it?

Boy will legit pat your boobs and snuggle in and not even acknowledge you

Like sir?? I'm not even here, i'm a hallucination ✨

Diavolo

Pls i'm a boob person for him, I wanna squeeze those honkers

Dia is both a boob and a ass person

He just thinks both of them come for different uses

Your boobs are his stress ball

Your ass is also his stress ball with the added benefit of slapping it

Barbatos

Yup he saw that question coming from a miles away

But nevertheless he'll humour you

Boobs

Idk why but he just gives me boob guy vibe

Simeon

WHAT IS THIS QUESTION ⁉️⁉️

MC THIS IS HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE

Simeon likes you for you heart, your kindness, you sincerity, your mind-

Boobs.

Solomon

Thighs.

Enough said.

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[vivwritesfics]

F1 reader doing a hot lap with her bf Bob for her insta. Bob who while he is used to Phoenix’s flying, he’s never been in a car with her driving. He’s used to his old reliable trucks and she is his passenger princess 👸 ~nurse-sainz

I need to do more Bob x f1 but currently idk how to make something long and different from sdygc but Bob x f1 stuff is coming I swear

(Tagging you so you get the notif @nurse-sainz )

Whoevers idea this was, Bob Floyd made a mental note to cuss them out. The man who didn't drink, didn't swear, cussing them out.

He didn't know it was the idea of the woman sitting beside him. The woman wearing the shit eating grin as she drove him around the track at breakneck speed.

He'd been in FA-18s, but this was far more terrifying than anything he'd done in the navy. He braced himself on the dashboard as she approached the corner, her foot not lifting off the gas.

"I'm gonna drift," she said, way too calm. This was her career, he had to remind himself. The conditions she did this in were far less safe than this.

But still, Bob was shitting himself as she took the corner.

"You okay, Floyd?" She asked as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. It was only a quick glance, but it still had her taking her eye off the road for a few seconds.

A few seconds too many, if you asked Bob.

His heart felt like it was in his throat, preventing him from answering. She lifted her hand off the steering wheel to pat his knee. "You're okay," she said to herself as she drove down the pit straight.

This was what she did, he told himself. She just didn't usually do it with him. Usually it was them in his truck, driving back to the ranch in Montana.

He always drove them. She was always in the passenger seat, playing with the controls in front of her and changing his music as and when she liked. Bob didn't mind, though. He didn't mind one bit.

This was a far cry from their peaceful sunset drives to the west pasture. This was fucking terrifying.

As soon as she stopped, Bob climbed out a heaved. It was caught on film, he knew, but he didnt much care. Hands braced on his knees, he turned to look at his future wife. "You're a fucking psycho."

Her eyes were wide and she covered her mouth, but it was entirely mocking. "Robert Floyd!" She chided. But then she just grinned at him. "You love it."

He did love it. As terrifying as it was, he did. They both had to be as crazy as each other for the jobs they did. It was why it worked; he worried about her every time she raced and she worried about him every time it he was on deployment.

Clearing his throat, he stood up straight. "I'm never doing a hot lap with you again," he said as he stepped closer, close enough for a member of the social media team to snap a picture of them.

She rolled her eyes, head falling onto his shoulder. "Like you have a choice."

[elsaellaelys]

Calvin Klein boxers

summary: Y/N is a simp for JJ's underwear.

580 words

pairing: boyfriend!JJ Maybank x girlfriend!fem!reader

a/n: Really short, but I just wanted to take it out of my mind.

--★--

Y/N discovered her fixation for JJ's boxers early when they met, with his low waist shorts, the first time she saw him shirtless, cargo shorts loose on the hips, she almost lost balance and she's sure, since JJ kissed her, her knees are not strong as before.

When they first slept together he was using Calvin Klein boxers, Y/N could even feel the smell of new cloth, it made her heart ache, cause he was so attentive, and it made she clench her thights together cause he looked so freaking hot. She always loved the way it fitted in his hips, loved to feel the soft cotton and the curves of his ass, love to take them off of him.

One day, though, she noticed he wasn't using them anymore, just navy blue Jockeys and red Reebok, that she liked of course, - how he could ever look bad? - she couldn't help, but realize the Calvin Klein boxers kink she had and how much of a man he looked in them.

"Where are your Calvin Klein boxers?" she asked trying to sound as casual as possible, it was morning, Y/N was brushing her hair, JJ was getting dressed.

"I was in sitting in the dock and got up fast, my shorts and boxers got stuck in a nail, they ripped real good." he laughed. "And that's a fuck, y'know? They were expensive."

It got she wondering about it more and more, and should she feel embarassed for being attracted to her boyfriend's boxers? That's what got she measuring his underwear secretly, spending hours in the internet looking for the right color, the right fabric, the right size, the right prize - cause she was a pogue after all.

It took about a month for the package to arrive - drawbacks of living in an island - when it came she dropped everything and headed to the Chateau, JJ was lazily throwed on the couch with a beer in his hand. She stormed in. "JJ! I have something for you!"

Only after the words she looked around to find Pope and John B.. JJ smirked, he felt almost haughty, his pretty girlfriend standing there with tight capri pants, halter top, small box in her arms, and his friends were there looking curious for something that were for him. He patted the spot beside him on the sofa. "Come here, show me."

She discreetly eyed the guys across the room and refused, shooking her head, she reached for his hand bringing him to the guestroom.

"Okay, I bought this for you because, I have to admit, I think you look so hot with them." she gabbled, looking through the drawers for a scissors. "Shit." Without patience she grabbed a pen and pierced the tape, opening it fastly and carelessly.

"Alright then." JJ laughed. When she pulled off the Calvin Klein bag he furrowed his eyebrows, she gave him and he took it. "Can't believe you did this..."

"Oh please, cut the bullshit." "No, you didn't have to spend your money on me."

"Take it as a early birthday gift. I really wanted you to have it." He forced his lips against hers, in a strong peck, she smiled even more widely.

"Go try it on, you silly."

"You really want to see me in underwear, don't you?" he joked, unbuttoning his shorts, her cunt heated just with the sound of his zippers.

"Actually I'm thinking more about taking them off after that."

[snurtsnurtcreations]

Phillip Graves Headcanons

A character study, of sorts (all sfw btw)

Has committed war crimes and will do it again >:)

Cares deeply about his Shadows and the Shadow company as a whole

Sooome loyalty to those who employ him, but at the end of the day he is a merc working for personal gain

He won’t turn on someone just because he got a better offer, he’s got some morals, plus reputation is important

Loves seeing a plan come together (let’s fucking gooo!!)

When a mission goes ass up and he loses some good men, you know it’s serious because he’s dangerously quiet, not cursing, jaw clenched

Coffee addict. Creamer is a must tho.

Suuuch a smart ass, will try to get the last word in on everything. Also loves to playfully argue

As a child he used to have a pet raccoon

Just. Just imagine this, right. Teeny tiny Phillip, his two front baby teeth just fell out. He’s holding a raccoon up by its armpits swinging the thing all over the place as he bounds up to his ma all excited-like, asking if he can keep it, please please please

Very touchy. Hugs, pats, hip bumps, shoulder touches, etc, usually done practically subconsciously.

Especially with a S/O, his hands would be aaaall over em. Hand on their back, head on shoulders, hand holding, hell even just sitting really close together or brushing shoulders… he’s all for it

Has a particular fondness for booty grabs as well

Sometimes he has to spend some time just sitting down with a blank stare into nothingness. Error 404. Factory reset. Etc etc. It’s good for the soul, or so he says.

As a teenager he used to break into abandoned buildings

Loves watching trivia type shows like jeopardy, family feud, who wants to be a millionaire. Gets really stoked when he gets something right before the contestant

Is a decent enough cook but Hot Shit when it comes to baking. Somehow always gets the recipe wrong, or takes it out before it’s done baking… or after its already burnt. Took him way too long to realize that baking can’t be treated like cooking and that he can’t just eyeball things or measure with the heart

He’s a master with a grill though. His cookouts are the BOMB

100% has one of those “kiss the cook” aprons

Man’s is rich rich. Has a whole fancy property with a mansion for a house, complete with an outdoor pool + hot tub, fountain + waterfall, personal gym, huuuge tv, wine cellar, pool room, heated bathroom floor, etc etc

Owns a navy blue velvet armchair that wildly contrasts with all other furniture. He’s not entirely sure why he got it in the first place, it just Spoke to him. He’s definitely fallen asleep in it and got a horrible crick in his neck too many times to count

Talks to inanimate objects a liiiittle too much tbh

Will NOT tell his Shadows when his birthday is. He knows they’ll hold it against him or try to do some prank or WORSE throw a surprise party. He gets reeeaaal dodgy when they ask, and neither confirms nor denies any of their guesses

Somehow Bigfoot came up as a topic of interest in conversation once and now the Shadows have an ongoing argument on whether Graves actually believes in Bigfoot or if he’s just bluffing

He is the crazy uncle in his family. His sister is constantly amazed by what new insane junk he can teach her children, but, hey, the kids love him!

He abso-fuckin-lutely beat up his sister’s abusive ex husband

Is the type to let mail pile up on the table for a week or so before going through it

Fairly good at wood carving. It’s a fun little hobby of his

Hates fishing with a passion. One time his sister convinced him to go fishing with her children and while he was trying to remember how his father had taught him way back when (those are bad memories actually… he can figure it out on his own), his seven year old niece pulled out a crawfish and started screaming, Graves slipped in the mud and fell flat on his ass, his five year old nephew tried to get a closer look at the thing but it wiggled the wrong way so he started running and somehow got the hook caught in his shoelaces while the crawfish escaped…. Needless to say it was not a fun day for Graves. The kids laughed up a storm though and his sister constantly teases him about it

Can’t handle spice. Like not even a little. It’s kinda pathetic actually.

“Graves” is not his actual surname. He had it legally changed to that once he became a merc. (“C’mon, man, Fill up Graves? That’s hilarious and cool. It’s perfect.” His sister watches unamused as he tries to explain his decision)

100% acts like he’s dying when he catches a cold. Will cough and snivel and bemoan his life

Sooooo jealous of folks that can play guitar. He’s tried on and off again but somehow it just doesn’t click in his mind

Performs a sick air guitar. Has held an air guitar competition for his Shadows once. All agree it was a blast but refuse to provide details on who won. Newbies always hear about it as the legendary air guitar battle but don’t actually know what happened

Shadow HQ breakroom has pages with drawings stuck up on the fridge with abc magnets. It started as a joke but it’s an actual thing now. Middle of the fridge is a place of honor and respect, and the judge of it is of course Commander Graves

[katsu28]

hi Kait! congrats!! ☕️ "Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” with bradley bradshaw please!! ily

thank you! this is unbelievably late so i apologize but you know what the french say! soo la voo, or whatever (that's from tiktok, french tumblr girlies (gn) pls don't come for me)

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x roommate!reader (2k)

“I had a really nice time tonight, Jake.” 

“Yeah?” Jake smiled, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as he walked you to your front door. “Me too.” 

“We should do this again sometime.” Was it too bold of you, asking for a second date when you were only moments away from the end of your first? Probably. But Jake was nice and charming and made you feel special all night. 

“Can I kiss you right now?” 

Your smile grew even bigger at his words. Of course you wanted this very sweet, very handsome man to kiss you. You were hoping he’d do it this whole night. “Please.” 

Jake slid a hand around the back of your neck, bringing you closer and closer until your lips connected. The kiss was everything you’d hoped it would be, but before either of you could deepen it, you faintly heard the sound of the locks unlatching from inside your apartment. Before you could warn Jake, the door swung open with a gust of wind. 

“Well hello there, you crazy kids!” 

You fought the urge to scream at your roommate’s smug as shit voice, pulling away from Jake with what you hoped was an extremely venomous glare aimed at Bradley. The smile on his face matched his tone of voice, shit eating and absolutely enjoying it. 

“Rooster.” Jake nodded awkwardly. He stepped back like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, rubbing at the back of his neck. He avoided Bradley’s gaze, looking to you for any ounce of comfort you could provide, but there was little you could do when Bradley got like this. 

You’d been living with Bradley Bradshaw coming up on a year now, and for the most part it had been smooth sailing. He was a great roommate and tidy to a fault, always keeping his space neat and the shared space even neater. You probably had the Navy to thank for that. In addition to that Navy instilled tidiness, as a person he was kind and funny and a little bit of a dork, but you loved that about him. 

Something you didn’t quite love about him, however, was the way he acted whenever you went on dates. 

You couldn’t even really call it jealousy because you’d never been together—not that you hadn’t thought of it occasionally. With someone as perfect of a person as Bradley, the thought was bound to cross your mind sometime. It wasn’t quite territorial, but definitely more than him just looking out for you. 

“Hangman.” Bradley responded coolly. He mirrored Jake’s crossed arms, leaning against the door frame. “Getting back a little late, aren’t we?” 

“Shut up.” You said, words a near hiss through a tight smile. You turned back to Jake, splaying a hand across his chest. “Ignore him.” 

“He can’t ignore me, he’s standing on my doorstep.” 

“Bradley, I swear to god—” 

Jake patted your hand, giving it a squeeze before stepping away. “No it’s fine, I can take a hint. I’ll be on my way.” 

“Okay.” You sighed, trying hard not to sound too defeated. “Text me when you get home?” Jake nodded, but judging by how quickly he walked back to his car, it was safe to say there would be no second date. You stormed into the apartment without waiting for Jake to drive away, shouldering past a madly grinning Bradley with a frustrated huff. 

“You’re an asshole, Bradshaw.” You scowled, throwing your sweater at him. He dodged it easily, tossing it across the back of the couch with a snort. 

“I don’t like him!” 

“He’s from your squadron. He’s your friend.” You deadpanned, raising a brow. “You’re the one who introduced us to each other, and now you don’t like him?” 

“I don’t like him for you.” He corrected himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “He used to be a playboy, you know that, right? I don’t want him playing with your feelings!” 

You whirled around on your heel, fixing him to the spot with a glare. “Then why did you set me up with him?” 

Bradley’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, like he was searching for any excuse to answer your question. He could say he just wanted to help. He could say a whole lot of completely bullshit things, anything but the real reason. Bradley couldn’t give an honest answer to your question, not without exposing his own feelings for you. So he just shrugged, letting his hands slap against his thighs helplessly. 

“Don’t act like you did me any favors, Bradley. I don’t know what you have to gain from messing with my love life, but however funny you think you are, you’re not. So just stop it, please.” 

“Y/N, I—” 

“I’m gonna head to bed. See you in the morning.” 

You left him behind at that, hurrying to your bedroom before he could get in another word. 

-------

Bradley’s knuckles rapped against your door, echoing through the empty hall.

He wasn’t used to you being upset with him (not that he didn’t deserve it this time, because he definitely did). There was usually some sort of noise coming from your room, whether it was music or the show you were binging, or even just you having a conversation with yourself in the confines of your own space. Things that annoyed him a little at first, but soon grew to love about you. 

The silence right now felt weird. Foreign. Just another sign that he’d massively fucked up. 

“Hey. It’s me.” No answer. He knocked again, a little more insistent this time. “I’m sorry for being a dick.” Still no answer. “C’mon, Y/N. I hate it when we fight. And I really am sorry. Feel free to open the door and kick me in the nuts or something.” 

The door swung open with a creak, and Bradley squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation for a foot to the nether regions that thankfully never came. He cracked one eye open to see you retreating over to your bed. 

You’d changed into your pajamas in the time that it took him to formulate an apology in his head. Showered too, judging by the whiff of your citrusy shampoo he got when he came to settle at the edge of your mattress. 

“Thanks. For not actually kicking me in the nuts.” 

“I was thinking about it.” 

“I deserve it.” 

“You do. You were petty earlier, Bradley. Kinda mean too.” 

He bobbed his head quickly, agreeing. “I was. And I’m sorry.” 

“You set me up with Jake only to sabotage any chance of a relationship with him. And you can’t even tell me why.” 

“It doesn’t matter why.” Bradley blurted. He cleared his throat, composing himself despite the disbelieving look you threw his way. “I know it was wrong of me to do what I did, but Hangman wasn’t right for you.” 

“That’s none of your business though!” You said shrilly, rising from your seat with anger. You all but stormed across the room, putting enough distance between Bradley and yourself so you wouldn’t feel tempted to strangle him. He was being impossible and way out of line. “My love life—who I date, who I like, it’s none of your business!”

Bradley was growing angry too, but not at you. At himself, for letting his feelings for you get to this point. “It is! It is my business when I know there’s someone better out there for you. Someone who understands you and supports you and loves you—who would never even think about treating you like anything less than the amazing person you are.” 

“You’re not making any sense. Why do you even care so much?” 

“Of course I care! I care about you, Y/N, you know that!” 

“I know you do, but that’s not—” You let out a frustrated huff. “Why are you so mad?” You exclaimed, genuinely exasperated at the way he was acting. 

“I’m not mad.” Bradley scoffed. “I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” 

“Like who, Bradley? Who’s this someone better you keep talking about?” 

“Me.” He said simply. It was blunt—maybe a little too much so, but maybe it was necessary. Dancing around the fact hadn’t done any good, so maybe this unexpected approach would give a different result. A better one. 

All your anger dissipated in a flash, replaced with hurt. He had to be kidding. This had to be some sort of fucked up joke, because there was no way Bradley Bradshaw had feelings for you. Not in the same way you felt about him. “Bradley, that’s not funny.” 

“I’m not trying to be.” He insisted, shaking his head. “I mean it. I saw you from the side window, him walking you up to the step, and when I saw him kiss you, I just—there was this feeling…like I’d been kicked in the chest. And when I see you, every morning, every night, every day, I feel like I—” 

“Stop.” You whispered, barely audible. Bradley’s voice died mid-sentence, brows knitting together at the sight of your seemingly pained expression. “What are you doing? What do you want from me, Bradley?” 

“I want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All I still want.” 

You didn’t reply for a scarily long time, and when you did, your voice shook. “If you cared about me like you say you do, you wouldn’t have done what you did earlier.” 

Bradley’s stomach dropped, tendrils of guilt creeping their way up the back of his neck like vines. He hadn’t even thought of it that way. He’d been so preoccupied with his feelings, he hadn’t even stopped to consider yours. From your perspective, Bradley was doing this all out of spite. (Which wasn’t at all true, but things weren’t looking too good for him.)

“It was stupid. A mistake, I know. One I’ll try my damndest to amend.” He insisted, reaching out with a reassuring hand on top of yours.

The moment his hand touched you, you stiffened. Didn’t pull away, didn’t retreat like you’d been burned, but it had the same effect. Oh, he’d definitely fucked up. You’d never reacted to him like that before, never had any reason to. Now you did, and the reason for it was entirely his own doing. 

“I think you should leave.” 

“...The apartment?” 

Your shoulders crept up to your ears, dropping in a haphazard shrug. “No. I don’t know, just—let me be alone right now?” 

He murmured out a soft okay, rising from his seat. He knew when to leave things be. Or he did now, at least. 

What he really wanted to do was to reach out as he passed you, to hold your hand or brush along your cheek or something, anything, to make you understand that he hadn’t told you to hurt you. But he didn’t, because he knew it would only make things worse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I—yeah, I’m just…sorry.” 

You didn’t respond, just kept your eyes trained on your socked feet like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. It made his guilt grow a thousandfold. He lingered at the threshold of the room a moment, hoping you’d garner one last glance at him and see just how sorry he was. 

You didn’t. 

Bradley let the door click shut behind him on his way out. He let out the biggest, heaving sigh, letting his head tip down towards his chest, because seriously, he was such an asshole.

He’d never been good at the whole “talking about his feelings” thing, and it was clearly showing, bleeding into his words and actions as if it were some sort of excuse for him to be acting the way he did. 

He hated how it made you feel like he was trying to sabotage your love life. It had never been his intention, but intentions didn’t matter in this situation.

How could he even begin to try and make this better? Would you even let him have the chance? 

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[ofaatuu]

Similar, Tonowari x Poly!reader x Ronal

(not my gif!)

part 1 here, part 2 here !

warnings: none 👍🏽 maybe a little angst

Bold / blue words are spoken in Navi!

summary: you meet the Tsahik and Olo'ekytan of the metkayina clan and have similar features. They found you interesting and watch you from afar.

(Reminder this is Polynesian and polyamorous!)

taglist for similar! @zoexme @ellabellabus07 @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @manumanulau @belos-simp69 @ratchetprime211 @tojisleftarm @sakuuo

You land in the reef clan and jump into the sand, but today you are in your Avatar. You still have all your tattoos and such. But it feels so weird. You haven’t entered your avatar in awhile. You walk to jake’s marui, bouncing a little on the walkway

You enter and greet them “Hi Jake! Hi Neytiri! Hi kids!” You greet them and sit down “Hey y/n, I can’t believe you’re in your avatar! It’s been years.” Jake says surprised. You nod, you just didn’t want to feel small compared to them anymore. “Yup..You know I can’t stay in it for too long, so don’t get used to it!” You say trying to remind him this isn’t permanent . “I still think you should at least try. You’ll be like me and get a Navi partner! But hey atleast you fit in with them! You still have your tattoos.” He pokes at your arm and leg as you scoff “No Jake, I can’t atleast try, they need to fix software or something.” You hear someone enter the Marui and feel eyes burning into your head, you then hear a familiar hiss “Who is this?” You hear Ronal hiss at Jake as he explains who i am.

You turn around to face them and see their face soften for a bit then tightens. “Ronal it’s me. Y/n” she gasps “Sky demon?” She reaches up to touch your Navi features. “But you are Navi?” She looks at you with widen eyes then turns around to tonowari who is already looking at her. They speak through their eyes and say goodbye. You turn around and look at Jake and Neytiri. “Can I just crash here tonight?” You don’t want to go back to lab because they would be pestering you with questions. “Yes. but you reek. You must go to the pond and rinse off. I will get a tweng from the Tsahik.” Neytiri says laughs as you roll your eyes and follow her out.

You reach the pond and strip from your t-shirt and shorts and dive in. You sit there waiting for Neytiri to bring your so called tweng for you to change into.

after your shower you hear some rustling in the bushes and out comes Ronal and Tonowari. “Oh..” you cover yourself and your cheeks flush in dark blue. You then reach out for the tweng and stand up “thank you.. I am going to change now.” They nod but do not move. Well thats new. You end up just moving backwards a bit and changing, you never leaving their site. “Thank you for the clothing.” You sign the I see you and start walking away but tonowari grabs your hand and whispers close to your face, “Come to our marui with your belongings. You are sleeping in our marui.” He looks at you tense. A shiver runs down your spine and you hesitate to answer but you just nod. Rushing you enter Jakes marui and tell him everything. “Holy shit! Do you think they like you? I mean they always had their eye on you but I thought it was because you’re human!” He rambled off as you hurry to grab your shit. “I don’t even know jake, but I trust them.” You say goodbye and walk towards the marui. Tonowari comes out from behind you and slips an arm around your waist. “come.” He says. “I will bring you to our home.” You walk with him tense as fuck because his damn buff ass arm is around your waist. You walk in and see Ronal and smile nervously. She smiles and pats the sleeping mat. “Come. We welcome you.” They seat you down and also give you very pretty Navi jewelry. Isn’t this a way of courting? I’ll ask Jake or norm. Right now I just need to focus on what’s happening in front of me..

god I fell. Hard.

[fanboyoff1]

Landoscar College Fic (2.4k words)

Inspired by this post. It was supposed to be a little drabble but it spiraled

@complementaryhalves Hope I did it justice. It’s not really a meet-cute since they both know of each other (or maybe that counts, idk how meet-cutes work) but I tried my best lol

Oscar really needs to set a second alarm.

He’s several months into college, so you’d think he’d have figured out a good sleep schedule by then. Unfortunately, that has not happened, and Oscar wakes up to sun on his face.

“Ughhh,” he groans, rolling over and pulling his sheets up over his head. It takes him a few seconds to realize there’s no annoying beeping that usually greets him in the morning.

“Shit.” He grabs his phone from the bedside table and jolts up when he reads 8:25 on his lockscreen. “Shitshitshit.” 

He tosses his sheets to the side, the old mattress creaking loudly as he stands, rushing because his bus is literally about to leave. Why did he sign up for early classes? Why, why, why? Even his professor Mr. Webber told him it was a bad idea once he’d heard about it, but he’d insisted that it would be fine.

Right now, it’s definitely not fine though. He brushes his teeth at lightning-speed in the communal bathroom, and throws on a navy blue sweatshirt and pants, nearly forgetting his watch. He’ll get a bagel or something for breakfast at school.

Thankfully, he likes to pack his backpack the day before, so all he has to do is put it over his shoulders, rushing down the stairs and out the door into the parking lot to see… His bus rolling away down the road without him.

Oscar drops his hands down from his backpack straps to his side in defeat. He curses the ground and his stupid clock under his breath, kicking at a loose rock. What is he gonna do now?

Well, he could call Logan, ask if he can give him a ride. Or maybe Charles drove today? He glances across the parking lot, but there are around three other cars that look just like Charles’, so that won’t be very helpful.

He’s about to pull his phone out when he hears a car pull out of the lot, wheels making a grainy sound against the asphalt. Oscar quickly backs away from the middle of the road and goes back to his quiet crisis.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

Oscar looks up to see the car that had been leaving stopped in front of him. The person behind the voice is a handsome guy with dark curly hair and tan skin, sitting behind the wheel with one hand dangling out the window. There’s a small flicker of recognition in Oscar’s brain, he must have seen the boy around campus before.

The driver seems to have taken Oscar’s silence as hesitancy, starting to talk again. “I-um, I saw your bus fuck off into the distance, and I figured you could use some help. I live right over there.” He points vaguely to another one of the student campus buildings behind them.

Oscar opens his mouth to politely decline immediately, but stops himself. Does he really for certain have another way to get to school? He remembers how he knows this guy now, he’s friends with Charles. Anyone who’s friends with Charles gets an automatic thumbs up from him, but being in a car with them…

“Yeah, I could use a ride,” he finds himself saying, not totally sure the words are coming from his mouth. The curly haired guy seems equally surprised, but masks it quickly. “O-okay. Just come over to the passenger seat.”

Oscar walks out in front of the car, and opens the door. Any move to sit down is paused by the fact that there’s a football in the seat. The boy turns when Oscar opens the door, looking through his eyelashes at him, and his eyes are really blue from up close. A bit of green too- okay, stop analyzing his eyes, he tells himself.

The driver- Oscar decides to coin him Car Guy- notices Oscar’s predicament and grabs the football, promptly chucking it into the backseat and patting the now empty seat for Oscar, who sits.

He twists his body to face the back of the car. “Do you think you damaged anything with that throw?” he asks, trying to find the football amongst the clutter of the car. There’s a few random clothes, a cardboard box on the right.

“Eh, it’s fine,” Car Guy says with a wave of his hand. Oscar turns back to the front, buckling up. Car Guy notices what he’s doing and buckles up himself with a guilty smile. Oh God, Oscar’s totally going to die.

“Just college campus, I assume?” Car Guy asks, adjusting his rear-view mirror that has a car freshener and a necklace hanging from it. The necklace has a big 4 hanging by the end. 

“Yeah,” Oscar sets his backpack down between his legs, and braces when Car Guy starts to drive away. However, he actually seems like an okay driver, despite that seatbelt incident that may haunt Oscar’s nightmares. 

After a few streets, he chills out enough to get a proper look at who’s driving him. He has a Texas Bulls shirt on, a hoodie under it, and to top it all off, a green letterman jacket with the number 4 on it. Huh. 4 again. Maybe the number 4 has some kind of significance to him. 

He’s really pretty as well, especially up close. His long lashes, his freckles, his hair that looks like it's attempting to be a mullet. 

Don’t you dare fall for a jock Oscar, he tells himself. Because that’s what he has to be, right? He has a Bulls shirt, a sporty jacket, and a freaking football in the passenger seat. There’s nothing else he could be.

And he’s still terrified about a stranger driving him somewhere, pretty or not. He takes out his phone and pulls up his messages, finding his last conversation with Dad 2.0 (an inside joke the two of them have.) He frantically texts Charles, asking, ‘Is curly haired boy a serial killer??’

A moment later, he gets a response back, a lot of question marks. Oscar sighs, running his hand through his hair and trying not to let his thoughts spiral into how he may or may not be getting kidnapped.

# # #

Lando’s trying to be cool. He really is. But Oscar’s in his car. He wants to squeal and kick his feet and giggle.

He’s had a crush on the Australian-born boy for a while now, ever since he’d seen him actually. They’d just been passing by each other while walking across campus, but it felt like a world-changing event for Lando (okay, he may be overreacting just a little, but have you seen the man?!)

Once he learned that Oscar was friends with Charles, he came out to his friend as bi and proceeded to spend his entire time with Charles ranting about how pretty Oscar was, or what Oscar was wearing today, or could he get some pictures of Oscar pretty-please?

Needless to say, the Monegasque was tired of his pining fairly quickly. “I don’t understand why you do not just talk to him,” he’d said one day during their lunch break.

“I can’t just talk to him, Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird!”

“How? It’s just talking,” Charles had retorted, biting into his protein bar. “You can say it’s because you are both friends with me or something. There are ways.”

“Well, it- it’s complicated.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a good argument for that Charles, but just know that you’re wrong.”

So Lando had just watched Oscar from a distance (not in a creepy way or anything, just in an adoration way.) Until this morning, when he saw Oscar miss the bus, which was admittedly a little funny, he’d gotten the courage to ask if he wanted a ride. He hadn’t been expecting him to say yes, but he was ecstatic that he had.

Now they’re in the car together, and Lando’s tongue feels like lead whenever he attempts to make small talk. Oscar’s aggressively texting someone, and Lando has had to stop himself multiple times from looking at Oscar instead of the road.

Oscar sighs, running his hand through his swoopy hair. Now’s his chance. “Everything okay?” he asks, drumming a finger against the steering wheel as he waits behind a stop sign.

“Hmm?” Oscar looks up, raising his eyebrows, and Lando might die on the spot. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just texting a friend. You know Charles, right?”

“Leclerc?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I was gonna ask him to drive back and pick me up but… Well I don’t know if you know this, but Charles likes to jog to school sometimes. I wasn’t sure if he had today or not.”

Lando barely processes what he’s said, which feels extremely rude even in his head. But Oscar’s smiling and it looks so cute, and the way his voice changes as he’s trying to stifle a laugh is addicting. “Oh, I think I’ve heard him talk about jogging to class sometimes. One time he texted me at like 6 am, I was so confused when he told me he was at school already.”

Oscar laughs again, and Lando tries to stop the butterflies growing in his stomach. “Ha, yeah, he’s like that. I think he just likes to be early.”

“I know, but 6 am??” 

“I’m not defending him!” Oscar says, throwing his hands in the air, the two of them laughing together. Lando feels joy spread through his chest, because Oscar seems more comfortable, he’s smiling and laughing and blushing and he looks so cute.

“Oh my gosh, I have this selfie of Charles he sent to me when he was on a run,” Oscar turns on his phone and started to scroll through his photos, eyebrows furrowed in determination. His hair droops down on his face, and Lando fights the urge to reach out and push it back.

After a minute or so, Oscar bursts out laughing. “Did you find it?” Lando asks. Oscar nods, shoulders shaking, and holds his phone out for Lando to see. It's perfect timing, they're stopped at a red light, so Lando turns his head to inspect the picture.

Charles has a headband and glasses on with no shirt. He must have been running when he took the picture, everything’s blurry and the background is just a mass of green and gray. The most noticeable thing is his face. He’s trying to wink, but it’s more like a squint, and his eyebrows are high up on his forehead. He looks partially like he ate something sour, and like he’s getting chased by a wild animal.

Lando snorts, and Oscar pulls the phone back. “I know right? Apparently, he took the photo and sent it to me without checking what it looked like, so now I have this treasure saved in my phone forever.”

# # #

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, and Oscar regrets thinking Car Guy was someone scary or a jerk. He seems really sweet and funny. And he’s attractive. But that’s besides the point.

Charles had been blowing up Oscar’s phone ever since his vague text about Car Guy, most of it consisting of ‘who the hell are you with’ and ‘answer your phone, you’re freaking me out.’ Oscar replies to his flurry of messages with nvm. It's fine. I’ll explain later

“Is this a good place to drop you off?” Car Guy asks him, and Oscar’s head jolts up. He parked just a few minutes away from his first class.

“Oh yeah, this is perfect,” Oscar grabs his backpack and opens the car door. “Thanks for this,” he says, turning back.

“No problem,” Car Guy says with a smile. He’s got a little gap between his front teeth. “See you around?”

Oscar gives him a thumbs-up and steps out, walking down the winding sidewalk to Mr. Webber’s class in room 222.

Epilogue

Oscar still needed another alarm. He just kept forgetting. And now he was running late again, this time far too late to even try to catch the bus.

He sits on the parking lot curb, about to call Charles (he’d taken his car today,) when a familiar voice calls out to him.

“Dude, you really need to wake up earlier.”

Oscar gives Car Guy a withering glare. He leans back in his car in response, a look of barely concealed fear in his eyes. “Well, do you want a ride or not?” 

Oscar sighs and stands, getting in the passenger seat. “No football this time,” Car Guy says with a grin. Oscar can’t help but smile back.

This car ride is a lot less talkative than the last one, a playlist of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus from Car Guy’s phone playing loudly. Oscar puts on an excellent act of pretending his ears aren’t bleeding from the music.

“Thanks again,” he says once they arrive at his stop. He gets his backpack and is about to leave when Car Guy speaks up.

“Hey um, I was wondering if maybe you could repay me by going on a date? With me?”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Car Guy obviously takes this the wrong way, his face reddening. “Never mind. Just… forget I said anything.”

“No,” Oscar says. “I don’t want to forget that. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Car Guy says, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, here’s my number.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a folded Sticky-Note, pressing it into Oscar’s hand. Oscar wonders if he feels the electricity when their fingers touch too.

“Uh, this is gonna sound weird,” Oscar says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But can I get your name?”

“Oh. OH. My name’s Lando.”

“Lando,” Oscar says, testing the word on his tongue. “I’m Oscar.”

“I kinda already knew that,” Lando giggles, and now it’s Oscar turn to blush. “You look cute when you blush.” His face gets a thousand times more red.

“OkIgottagoI’lltextyoubye,” he says, almost stumbling out of the car. Once Lando’s car drives away though, he allows himself a bit of a victory dance, before walking to class with a skip in his step and only one word in his mind. Lando, Lando, Lando. 

Okay I kinda hate it 😭 But I don’t really wanna work on it more, so *tosses fanfic at the Tumblr gods and runs*

[iheartjameshetfield]

thinking about lazy sex with this james era rn

like so fucking lazy and soft

he’d probably be laying on the couch in a giant navy hoodie and grey shorts and you’d be lying on top of him in a cute lil white tank top and and boyshorts cuz they’re so cute n comfy

with him wearing the hoodie, it’s feel like his chest was a pillow and your knees would be on either side of him, like you would be in a fetus position on top of him and it’s just so cozy. he would have his hand cradling your back and the other resting on top of your ass, giving it a couple of pats here and there.

whenever you’d shuffle over him, he tries to hold back a groan, not wanting to ruin a cute moment between the both of you with a boner but eventually, you were just as needy as him.

your underwear would be nudged to the side and his shorts would be down just enough for his dick to be out. he’d softly sink into you and wait for you to adjust. once you’re ready, neither of you would make the move to carry on. he would move his other hand to have a soft hold on your ass, using it as leverage to move you up and down on him.

“you’re so pretty like this.” he whispers, enjoying the sight of you and your little pants and whimpers.

you place your hands on top of his chest, clawing at his hoodie as you start to reach your climax. you slowly start rutting against him as he brings you into a hug, bringing even closer than you already were. you clench repeatedly around him as you cum, gasps falling from your lips as your face flushed red. you try to close your legs around james but you couldn’t.

he starts to pepper sweet kisses into your hair, forehead, and right above your ears. bringing one hand up to cradle your head, he nibbles at your ear, trying to get himself to his release.

“shit, i’m gonna cum,” he whispers against you. “oh, yes. so good for me.” he let’s out a breathy moan as you feel him cum deep inside of you, feeling his whole body shudder.

even after he’s done, neither of you make a move to pull out, enjoying the feeling of being this close to each other. he continues to baby you, patting and lazily stroking your ass or arms or whatever come underneath his fingertips:

god i need this so bad i could cry

[ram-bam-writes]

Wisdom Teeth [Jake Seresin x NB Reader]

A/N: Per my parents recounting, when I got my wisdom teeth removed a few days ago, I cried in my bed because they couldn’t get paramount to play on my tv in my room. I wanted to see Glen Powell so badly that my parents had to dig around to find a charger for my computer so they could put it on… Twenty minutes later I have my laptop flat on my face while humming along to the soundtrack as the TGM plays… Ehehe :>

Summary: Jake’s partner gets all four wisdom teeth removed… Chaos ensues…  Based on personal experiences and made up ones. You guess which are which :>

CW: Wisdom teeth extraction, mentions of medical fears, mentions of blood, reader is suffering, Jake is being a little shit, hurt/comfort, no beta we die like goose, etc [The first part is the actual incident, which goes over fears and hinted past medical trauma, but the rest is lovely (irritating) banter between Jake and his lover. Blue will be everything to do with the angst if you wanna skip past it]

Word Count: 3206

“Honey…” Jake purrs, gently patting your arm in the middle of the waiting room. “Take a breath.”

It’d been several grueling minutes of staring at the clock on the pale wall of the oral surgeon’s office, foot tapping impatiently on the floor as you wait in fear for the extraction. You didn’t want your wisdom teeth out — you’d heard horror stories online. But they caused plenty of migraines and ear pain, and you absolutely needed them out when the bottom teeth grew in with cavities.

That, you decided, wasn’t fair to you at all.

But, alas, it pushed you to get them out. And the dentists advised to get all four out at once, since the top ones were also impacted. So it only made sense to get it all done in one fast sweep.

“Honey.” Jake says a little more firmly, gently grasping your hands. You blink up at him, eyes widened. “Sorry…” “Talk to me, hun. What’s up? They’ve done this a thousand times.” He points at the office wall. “And this is where I got my teeth out. You’re gonna be okay. They’re amazing.” As you tap your feet on the floor, you try not to think of the story your older brother had told you. He’d gotten his ripped out in the Navy, and they had him on not enough local anesthetics and, unfortunately, felt them ripping out his teeth one by one. Your biggest fear became feeling the pain or waking up in the middle of the surgery. 

“I know, I know…” Your hand squeezes his. You didn’t want to be afraid, but you’d woken up before, and your brother certainly didn’t help. He’d tried to — that’s why he told you his story. He was trying to express that he only went through that because, well, Navy. You wouldn’t deal with it. But that didn’t help.

“I’ll be right here every step of the way…” He promises, offering a reassuring smile.

The door besides the office opens, a blond haired dental assistant leaning out of it. “Seresin?”

You inhale shakily, standing up. Your partner quickly follows you, ushering you inside. They both get you situated into the white room, a set of crazy equipment set up in the middle of the room. The dental assistant sits you in a chair, then proceeds to hook you up to an EKG.

“Mmm…” Jake lets out a low purr as your shirt is lifted to attach the stickers. “You look good…”

As much as you want to glare or blush, your nerves take over. The EKG begins to read your heart beat, following the pulses and patterns effortlessly. But that sound…

Warmth blooms on your thigh as Jake runs a hand across your skin. His green eyes swirl with concern, smiling weakly at you. “Breathe.”

After signing a few too many agreements to acknowledge that you’re aware that tons of shit can go wrong in the healing process and that it won’t be the dental office’s fault, you’re situated more comfortably in the chair.

More comfortably? Maybe less so, given they escort your partner out all too quickly. Jake gives you one last kiss to the forehead, just between your brows, and slips out of the room reluctantly. 

The actual oral surgeon walks into the room, his smile friendly. He begins to talk to you about what you do. School, work, both? As you answer each question, he sets up the IV, admittedly a little rough on your right arm. He apologizes, unable to get the IV set up properly, resulting in him going to the left arm. 

As you attempt to keep your wits about yourself, the room swirls around you. “It’s… fine… I’ve had it in my-my hand once…”

When you attempt to explain the story of your hand IV incident, several pairs of hands begin touching your body. One around your neck, two around your legs, and two on each arm. Something is pressed against your nose, something choking your throat. The EKG is loud as it beeps, signaling your tachycardic state.

So you thrash. You thrash and thrash — they wanted to hurt you. With wild eyes, you frantically search around the room for anyone you can recognize, but it’s just several masked medical personnel. It isn’t until the oral surgeon pulls down his blue mask that you see a slightly familiar face, finally easing your breathing.

“That’s it…” The oral surgeon praises. “You passed out on us for a second… but it’s okay… you’re doing fine… you’re okay now…”

“I’m-I’m sor-so-sorry…” Tears slip down your cheeks as the oral surgeon rubs your arm to ease your mind. You can feel the soft hands of a sweet, younger dental assistant running through your hair, smiling gently down at you behind her mask.

“Don’t be… you’re doing just fine. We’re gonna give you the anesthetics, and it’ll be over before you know it…”

A sob shakes your body. “Please don’t let me wake up.”

“I won’t let you. It’ll be the best nap of your life…”

———

“The denshist was sho cute…”

A soft laugh resonates around you, but you can’t quite make out where you’re at or who you’re with.

“Yeah?”

“Yeash... the denshist was shuper cute…”

“Okay, hun..."

"Sho cute."

"Hun."

———

“Javy, can you help me bring them in the house?”

You knew that name. You knew that voice! People!

“That’s my boyfrieeeend!” You suddenly shout, leaning against Javy, incapable of standing on your own. You beam a bloody smile at the blond pilot standing across you, his arms held out in case you tumble. “That’s myyyyy boyfriend!”

“Jayyyy thasss my boyfrienddd!”

“I know.”

“My boyfrieeeend!”

“Y-yes!” Javy holds you tight, attempting to not drop you while he cackles.

“Boyfriend!”

———

You blink up at your boyfriend in a daze, Jake’s sweet smile staring down at you. He hands you a black table bell, one you had gotten him a few months prior. It reads: “If you hear this bell, bring me a beer.”

“Here, hun. Ring this when you need something from Javy, okay?” He pats your head lovingly. “I need to pick up your meds from the Pharmacy.”

He should have known better. Objectively, he should have known. You’re drugged! How can you not ring the bell seventy-million times in a row the moment you’re handed it?

“Hun.” A bright grin spreads across his face, his laugh warm as it swirls around you. “Don’t make me take it away, darlin’.”

The ringing stops. 

“Thank you.” He kisses your forehead as you set the bell next to your bed, eyes glimmering as you stare at the oh-so-tempting piece of metal. 

———

There’s a warm glow from the curtains as the sun slowly lowers behind the horizon line. Wind blows from the open window, the breeze comforting against your cold, sore body. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a normal morning after a good night with your partner.

And then the pain strikes. A thin set of lines in the four corners of your jaw are stinging. Jake, always a master of knowing your pain, rounds the corner to the open bedroom door.

“Ow…” You groan out, gauze stuffed in your cheeks. “Why…”

His calloused hands reach out and caress your neck. He doesn’t dare to touch your jaw, not in your current state. That’s a recipe for disaster he isn’t keen on making, actually. “Take it easy… you’re still pretty high on narcotics…”

“Ugh…” For some reason, your whole body aches something bad. It’s like you got hit by a truck. “Drugs…”

“Yes,” he laughs sweetly at you as he helps you sit up properly. “Yes, drugs. Good ones, too. Red caps, orange bottles. Good stuff.”

“Opioids…”

“Don’t talk much… the clots are still healing.” Jake gently wipes at the corner of your mouth with a wet cloth, removing the excess blood from your skin.

Is that why there’s so much gauze in your mouth?

“Let’s get you some new gauze, okay?” His strong arms help you stand upright as you lean most of your weight against him. An arm snakes around your waist, his lips pressing against the side of your head. “I’ve got ya…”

He leads you to the roomy kitchen, setting you onto the countertop. You instinctively spit out the gauze, something he laughs at. 

“Hun… unsanitary.” He earns himself a glare from you as he wanders to the sink. “I’ve got new gauze right here. Throw these ones in the trash, copy?”

“Floor.”

“Trash.”

“Floor.”

“Trash.“

“Floo-“He decides to interrupt you by pressing a rolled pad of gauze against your lips. Not hard, not at all. But enough to shut your drug-addled self up.

“Now bite down and quit bein’ a brat.”

You do as you’re told, mostly because your jaw is actually beginning to hurt from speaking so much. And when he hands you the good pills, the ones you know are gonna help fix most of those pains, you eagerly attempt to swallow them down with water.

“Babe-“ Jake inhales, immediately bursting out into laughter when the pill dissolves on your tongue, your mouth not quite working properly.

When your face twists in disgust as you try to swallow the dissolving pill, your partner’s fingers quickly grab the pill. He holds it in his palm, saving you from the horrendous taste. Down the length of your chin and neck is a long stream of wetness, none of the water that you had taken a sip of making it down the inside of your throat. 

“Alright, messy little thing, let’s try that again, hm?” He hands you a fresh pill this time, hand manually tilting your head back. “Once more, baby…”

———

Food.

You crave food.

Sustenance.

A soft knock echos on the door to your shared bedroom, Jake stepping inside with a paper bag. “I’ve got food!”

The speed at which you sit up is concurrent with the pure hunger your body feels. Jake can only laugh when your eyes, large and focused, stare at the bag of food, your nose working to figure out what food he has for you. Jake sits down on the bed next to you, gently pulling out small round containers of food. One large one, one small one.

“Doc says you can have mashed potatoes and gr-“ Maybe he should have expected you to snatch the container eagerly, drool slipping past your lips.

You were finally allowed to take out the bloody gauze pads, the clots beginning to heal. Not enough to eat normal foods again, but fuck if these potatoes didn’t smell like heaven.

“Just go slow, darlin’.” Jake helps pour the gravy into the mashed potato container and hands you a spoon. “Don’t want you poppin’ a stitch just yet.”

As you eagerly scoop up the first bite of savory mashed potatoes, you run into your first problem. 

You can’t open your mouth wide enough. To fit. The spoon.

The spoon clatters against your teeth, and Jake silently thanks the gods it was just a plastic spoon. And when you pout, letting out a strangled whine, he laughs so sweetly as he cups your jaw. 

“Struggling to fit that, darlin’?” He teases, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Here, let’s get you somethin’… smaller.”

He digs around the paper bag, this time pulling out a plastic fork. After scooping up some room-temperature mashed potatoes, he gently feeds it through the small gap between your jaws that you can manage. 

“Fuck…” You groan, the taste on your tongue pure bliss. Had mashed potatoes always tasted this good?

Jake laughs at your sounds. The way your eyes flutter and weakened smile forms has his heart thrumming right out of his chest. You’re his baby, and he loves every second of it.

“That’s it, hun. There’s plenty more where that came from.” He feeds you another spoonful. “Nice and easy. Swallow all of it, darlin’. No spitting.”

… Did he really just…?

You deadpan your lover, a bit of mashed taters still coating your lips which slightly dulls the intended effect.

Oh, the laugh he lets out is a boisterous one. Grabbing you a tissue and gently wiping your lips, he offers a cheeky smile. “Can’t help it darlin’. This is who you chose.”

“You’re so lucky you’re spoon feeding me.”

“Fork feeding.”

———

Day two of the recovery period goes a bit better. Since the mashed potatoes yesterday, you’ve been able to have really really mashed egg salad, cold ramen with cut up noodles, more mashed potatoes, and even room-temperature tofu. With the opioids you’re on, you can’t quite get the average hunger cues, which is probably in your best interest given the nutrients you’ve been living off of consist only of mashed potatoes, yogurt, and chicken broth.

Javy has come to visit, since Jake had a few errands to run and was never gonna let you stay by yourself. You’d known Javy probably longer than you knew Jake. He’s a close friend of yours, especially given that he’s the reason you and Jake got together. 

“Javy…” You whine out, leaning dramatically on his lap. “Will you please get me more food…? Jake’s killing me!”

The man in question pats your head, his eyes never leaving the TV in front of him. “Nope. Jake has you on the diet you need to be on.”

If it weren’t for him being your friend, you’d have smacked him a lot harder. But maybe, just maybe, you could complain long enough and get some pancakes out of him. The sweetness of syrup and carbs sounds so damn appealing that your stomach growls in need.

“I can’t take it anymore! Please! I just want pancakes!”

“Sorry, love.” Javy points over to the bowl of yogurt on the coffee table. “Not yet. You can have pancakes on day four.”

“Did he leave you a list?” “Of course he left me a list.” Javy offers you his phone, seeing the frantic, detailed texts from your partner. “Several.”

As mad as you want to be, your heart warms with how much your boyfriend does to keep you healthy and well. Without him, you’d probably have already popped several stitches.

“Oh, and, out of curiosity.” Javy tilts his head to look down at you, gently placing the bag of frozen corn on your cheek once more. “Do you remember anything about the oral surgeon?”

You blink.

“What?”

Javy grins. “The dentist that took out your teeth. Do you remember anything about him?”

“Um… he calmed me down when I freaked out.” You wrack your brain trying to think of anything else. “But… not really.”

“How cute is he?”

“WHAT?” You wince from the sudden shout, your stitches not very happy with you. “How-how what is he?”

Javy’s smirk turns into a full blown grin, his laugh echoing in the small living room. “You don’t remember? You wouldn’t shut up on the drive home how cute the dentist was! I think you told Jake like, eight times in ten minutes!”

Your cheeks burn, eyes wide as you swallow thickly. Had you really? 

“Jake was having a blast. You were so head over heels for the dentist you actually cried when we left. And then, as if the dentist never existed, the moment I pulled you out of Jake’s truck, you refused to shut up about him being your boyfriend.”

He pats your head affectionately. “You were hanging off of me and makin’ grabby hands at him. I’d never seen Jake so in love.”

Javy laughs when you hide your face with your hands, whining with embarrassment at the story.

“And that’s before the photo incident.”

“The w h a t?”

Maybe you shouldn’t ask.

“The photo incident, darlin’.” Jake’s voice carries across the room, shutting the screen door behind him with several bags in his hand. “I came back from the Pharmacy that day to find you layin’ flat on yer back with a photo of me n’ rooster stuck on yer face. Javy say’s you cried when I left, but a photo sufficed.”

He sets down the bags in the kitchen, leaning against the door to the living room with a lazy grin. “You okay there, sugartits?”

“No!” You hide your face once again. 

“Oh, don’t be that way.” Javy waves his hands. “Jakey here cried himself sick when he got his teeth out because his cat walked away to go eat.”

It’s your partner’s turn to becomes flustered, his golden cheeks tinting red. Jake points at his best friend, eyes narrowed. “To the grave. That was. To the grave.”

Your hands quickly fly up to press against your mouth, less to suppress you hysterical giggles and more to keep your mouth from stretching too much. Javy stands and gently moves you aside on the couch, grinning all to mischievously. 

“That’s my cue to leave-“ Javy gives the two of you finger guns, walking towards the door. “I’ll have the missus bring some shakes over later tonight, ‘kay?”

You sight, flopping back down onto the couch.

“Pancakes?”

Jake’s lips press right up against your forehead, his tone loving and affectionate. “No, little chipmunk.”

“I’m not that swollen!”

———

With day three rolling around all too slowly, Jake takes the time to cuddle you endlessly on the couch. He did his morning run, workout, and shower routine early, wanting to give you as much attention for the day as he can. 

While you pain is bearable, every few words you’d speak would be met with a sudden jolt of pain to your gums, right where the stitches had been. 

Thankfully, you had Jake to nuzzle into, his breathing light and easy as random movies play on the TV. His hands stroke your scalp, lovingly giving your waist squeezes every now and again. He’d gotten pretty good at recognizing your pain cues, especially the sudden sharp ones.

“Need some ice cream, hun?” Jake begins to sit up, but you tug him down.

“Mac. And. Cheese.”

He blinks. “W-what?”

“Macaroni. And cheese.”

“It’s… It’s not even ten…” 

Instead of responding, you let your eyes bore into his, the intensity and need for Mac and cheese shining through. 

“You’re like pregnant lady…” Jake shakes his head with a laugh, standing up and walking to the pantry. “You want the weirdest things…”

You flop against the couch once more when you hear the box of dried macaroni rattle in his hands, happy hums slipping past your lips. 

And then you hear it.

Crunch.

Your body immediately perks up, eyes narrowing in on the culprit and the crime. “What are you eating?”

“Chips.” Jake makes a show of shoving a large tortilla chip in his mouth, crunching on it loudly. “Wan’ some?”

You could punch the motherfucker for that.

He smirks as you stand up and round the kitchen counter. “Aw, wait, I just ‘membered…”

“You asshat!” You shout, giving him a good shove as you take the box of pasta out of his hands. “Go eat your chips in the garage.”

“Hun-“

“Nope! You’re being exiled! Exiled.” Jake laughs as you swat at him, raising his arms in mock defense. “Go! Get!”

This is gonna be one hell of a long, annoying, irritating recovery.

And you’re gonna hate love every second of it.

A/N pt2: Lemme know if you want another part as time goes along with my healing and how I imagine Jakey would deal with it as time goes on :>

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

CAKE FOR A DEAD MAN (I)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER II

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, problems with food & image, mentions of stalking, unwanted gifts, death, violence, gore, blood, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Color, as most would say, is one of the best aspects of sight. It allows such a myriad of emotions to be expressed—even felt. Red reminds us of passion; navy for elegance and a certain mystique. Not only seen but processed on such a deeper level. Refractions of light that explode into the retina, rod and cone cells that send signals to the brain to help detect that phenomenon like a gift of evolution. 

But when you can’t see any of that—color—who’s to explain what the red of the roses actually looks like above a deep shade of gray? That navy blue looks even darker, too. Closer to black. Light purple becomes the same hue as the curtains your mother hangs on the windows, but you can’t tell if that’s really purple or not. How can it be anything other than slate? People tell you it is…at least, those who’ve already met their partners. Their soulmates. 

But there’s little hope for you on that front, really.

You wave to the photographer, calling out a broken Russian goodbye as he smiles warmly at you, nodding his head in your direction before watching you walk out of the studio room’s doors. A large gaggle of other finely-clad women surrounds you on the way to the changing rooms. 

Even with three-and-a-half years of living in this northern country, your mastery of the native language starts and ends with simple pleasantries.

The modeling agency was packed today and you still had so much to do. You stuff down your internal list of scheduled fittings, meetings, and more booked photoshoots that extend into the chilled evening of Yekaterinburg, Russia. There was just so little time. 

Gray hallways and white overhead lights meet your eyes between blinks, potted plants boring and drab. If you could see the shades in between the leaves you’d know you would find them beautiful, but like this…well, they’re just sad.

You shake your head and shuffle to the back of the group, throwing tiny smiles to the kind, and stunning, women who you’ve had little real conversation with. One kisses you on the cheek and pats your shoulder, and you laugh brightly before pulling to the rear, face heating.

“The bastard is finally dead!” The familiar voice causes you to freeze with one heeled foot in the air—fingers picking at the strap of your silk dress absentmindedly before it, too, stills. They were always forcing you into silk with feathered accent pieces of intricate detail. Like a bird, or, Seraph, more precisely. 

Blinking in surprise, you turn around just in time to lock onto the drained shades that make up Alyona Arkadyevna Solovyova before she grips your shoulders harshly. 

Her collarbone-length hair swishes heavily, but it’s not as violent as the smile on her sharp face. 

“Finally, little Солнышко! This is perfect news. The bastard is dead!” Alyona’s English is very good, and of course, it would be—when she was younger she dreamed of being an English teacher. That was before she realized she was just about the most attractive woman of her generation. The harsh Russian accent still bleeds through.

You laugh and grip her long, pale, arms; seeing her in a blouse and pencil skirt as you tilt your head, asking, “Christ, Alyona, give me a warning next time. If I rip anything I’m in deep shit.” 

“Gah,” Your friend waves a hand and releases you, tiny eyes creasing, “forget about that—did you not hear me the first time? My father, Seraph, listen to me! He is finally dead! It happened just this morning but I only got word ten minutes ago.” She laughs, throwing her hands up, and you hide your amused exasperation, limbs tired but it won’t stop you from appreciating your friend’s enthusiasm. Alyona squeals, “A train hit him!”

You cringe internally, face pulling taunt. “Oh,” your chest sputters as you clear your throat, “that’s, uh, that’s…great?”

“Of course it is!” Hands capture your cheeks, squishing as you worry about the state of your makeup. Alyona speaks brightly, “We need to celebrate, Солнышко. Come.”

Before you can protest she’s dragging you away from the other women and the direction of the changing rooms, all had stopped and were listening intently from behind; nosey. Everyone in the Allurement Modeling Agency building, AMA for short, just had that way about them—your business was their business and vice versa. 

And Alyona had no problem airing out her grievances with her estranged father to the choir. She lived for drama.

“Aly,” You huff a soft breath at her and her bobbing hair. She said it was blonde and you had no other option but to believe her. Not yellow-blonde, she had specified. Ice-blonde. “I can’t go out in company property. Plus, I have a photoshoot for Chanel in under an hour. The photographer needs me to be ready.”

But it seems your concerns fall on deaf ears and you can’t help but chuckle and grin at your friend's lack of care about work. She herself was a model, but the entire company halted when she said it should. 

You were truly surprised they hadn’t fired her yet. 

“And I’m sure Chanel has an absolutely hideous dress for you, my Seraph.” Ashen eyes turn back to stare at you, and once she realizes you wouldn’t fight her, her grip releases. “Some Медовик will do you good before the vultures close in, yes? Let us hope they don’t shackle you to those damning lace lingerie sets over cake.” 

Your head tilts with a short sigh, and you walk beside the woman in your clacking heels. The sound of the authentic honey cake seemed to itself to coat your insides with a lust for it—dripping layers of plush gray sponge with pale cream. Your mouth waters. 

“I’m only eating half a piece.” You settle slowly, though you hate your own words as your stomach rolls with hunger. Some time outside will do you good, anyway. Perhaps you’ll learn to photosynthesize like a plant. “I still have to be able to fit into those fabric contraptions, you know.”

Alyona squeals and loops her arm in yours easily, bright teeth in a grin like a cat. Ever one to run into objects and lacking a general ability to walk in a straight line, the support from Alyona was much appreciated. Her help with lending an arm went far, especially for you. 

Your heart warms with soft care.

“I’ll take it! We can split one.” When you both make it to the front of the building, having grabbed your jackets and purses on the way there, you come to three familiar faces while chatting with Alyona about both of your upcoming bookings. 

“I was under the impression you had the day filled,” Petya speaks, heavy accent like stone. The clean-shaven man in his late thirties was built and wearing a dark suit, the tallest out of the other two—Aleksandr and Yefim—who both wear similar outfits. They were resting in the front seating area of AMA as they’d been doing for weeks already, waiting for you to come and go like escorts.

Well, bodyguards, to be more precise. Yours.

You smile politely to them while Yefim sends one back with his boyish charm and dimples. “On break. We’re off to get some Medovik down the street. I can pay for you if you’d want a piece.” 

“Of course, the three will have to tag along, hm?” Alyona huffs, staring blandly as you both slow to a stop near the large white entrance, colored as if it was Heaven’s gates. Your friend had said coloring around this building was rare. Whites and grays. Green chairs, apparently. “I’m just ecstatic.” 

Petya didn’t like you, and, you assumed, Aleksandr didn’t either. With the ladder, his sharp face was always too blank to tell; body tight and unwelcoming with weasel-like eyes. Petya was simpler, blatantly more outward with his distaste.

“Not a smart idea. This isn’t a game to play, девушка.” Alyona’s face tightens, and you swiftly placate her with a squeeze to her bicep. You level Petya with a tilt of your head and a calm look. 

“What harm could a bite to eat do? It won’t cost you your life.” You chuckle smoothly. “Let me get you all something—it’s nearly noon, I’m sure you’re all hungry.”

“I could eat,” Yefim eases in, hands resting in his pockets as he stares at you. His accent was calmer than the others, and his face softer. Out of all of them, you liked him best. 

Your eyes rest on Yefim with a thankful expression. He smirks and nods. Aleksandr, as always, says nothing beyond a small scoff and a look around the room with shifting feet. 

When the tallest of the group does nothing to push back his sneer and heavy glare, you hum under your breath as you expect the words before they rush from his sharp mouth.

“I will have to speak to your mother about this.” The accent makes him sound so stiff—like a statue. A man built up of gravel and snow; concrete in his veins instead of blood. 

“Oh, yes,” Alyona mutters, “the Consul herself.” 

Your nose moves in a sigh, but you ease the situation with a simple, “Do whatever you need to, Petya. I know it’s your job and I’m thankful regardless, but we’ll be back in less than an hour. It’s no big deal.” You pause, plastering on an innocent look. “We’re hungry.”

 For whatever reason you always envisioned Petya with dark eyes—blacks more deep than the clothes they put Alyona in to off-set your given whites when you two are fitted together. But the man’s eyes were so painfully light it made you not want to stare into them. 

Petya grunts and continues to glare, working his jaw. After a moment he lets off a large huff and shakes his head in disapproval.

“Half-an-hour. No more.” 

Alyona manhandles you out the door quickly, growling, “I do not know how you can stand this, Seraph. Bullshit, all of it.” 

“It’s only until everything goes back to normal,” you reason, hearing three sets of footsteps behind you as the guards follow into the chilled air of Yekaterinburg. There was no reason to take a car, everything was within walking distance of one another in this dense city populated by over one million people. “My mother’s worried is all. I’m not going to make their lives harder while they’re only doing what they’re told to do.” 

Light eyes dart to your face, your friend’s hand guiding you along the concrete with a dim concern. “I do not like all of this, Солнышко. It’s been months…Are the gifts still coming?”

Your expression tightens, lips going stiff. Alyona notices and changes the subject for now.

“Ah, but what am I doing—I’m ruining the celebration! Come, come, we will talk about my engagement to Nikifor while we eat.” 

Nikifor, her soulmate. The one who brought her color and music with his performance at a nightclub two years ago; the only thing standing in the way of their marriage was Alyona’s strict father. Something about the man wanting someone with higher standing than a musician for his famous daughter. 

“How is he?” You ask, blinking away the thought of finally being able to see color for the first time and how that must feel. A piece of you would always be envious of that. 

Alyona must have blushed because she always tilts her nose lower when she does. You smile and chuckle under your breath. 

“Wonderful,” is all she offers, but the giddy grin on her lips is knowledge enough. 

You both make it to the small bakery at the end of the long street, heels clicking and cheeks chilled. People had turned to look at you, gaping at the two models still in their expensive clothes and attempting to take pictures on their phones. All were strong-armed by the three men close behind you who bark things in Russian. 

Alyona opens the door of the bakery for you and you accidentally knock your shoulder into the frame, giving a sheepish smile before carefully walking to your regular corner table. Your tall friend goes to order while you take your seat with a sigh, Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim all shuffling in and sending glances to you; looking over the interior with sharp and calculating eyes. 

It’s like they think the sky’s going to fall, you surmise, twitching your lips their way. They’ve been here before with me, do they still not trust it?

Back when things had been less serious they’d allowed you to go where you wished with them—parks, for walks, stores—now it was only work and home. As if you didn’t already feel so trapped. 

“You boys can pick what you want,” you call to them softly. “My treat.”

“On the job,” is all Petya grunts before he takes his normal seat at the table closest to the door; everything in his bright sight. Your hand lightly tightens on the table, but you keep your expression placid. 

You’d tried to get him to lighten up, Aleksandr too, but the two weren’t as open to you as Yefim. There was a blatant distrust of Westerners here, even if you had given up your citizenship to move where your mother works in the Consulate building of this very city. 

While she was still employed by the American government, that didn’t stand in any sense with you. But on top of you being a famous model, your mother was well-known, regardless, and that ultimately fell back on you. 

Yefim’s gray eyes flickered to a case of Bird Milk Cake with a hidden longing as he grasped the back of his chair and slid into it—floorboards creaking loudly. You notice and chuckle under your breath, cheeks heating at the sight as the man’s gaze moves to you and blinks in surprise. He quickly averts his gaze and clears his throat, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.

You’d buy him a piece before you left; maybe kiss his cheek just to see him go all blurry-eyed. He certainly was adorable.

“The baker’s boy is staring again,” Alyona’s voice snaps into your head, and you peer at your friend’s face, startled. 

“What?” You ask as a plate is set in the middle of the table holding a single piece of Medovik. Your mouth fills with saliva, fingers immediately moving like a starved dog to grab a fork and cut into the layers; you shovel it into your mouth before you hiss to pace yourself. 

You chew slowly, swallow, and give Alyona a confused look.

She slides you an unimpressed frown. “The boy. At the front.”

“He’s probably gaping at you,” you take another bite, rubbing at your cheek with your free hand as people walking by the front window peek in with wide eyes; your men glare and move their chairs as the ground squeaks again. 

Your friend scoffs and mutters in Russian, shaking her head. Her hand waves quickly, barking, “Look!” 

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you look over and dab your face with a napkin before you get locked into a staring match with the dark eyes of the man up-front. 

He wears an apron, head a mess of curls, and his upper arms stained with flour. You blink and pause, wondering if…perhaps…A pause, a sickly hope in your chest…but nothing happens and the contact is broken when he ducks his head before looking at the counter. 

Gritting your teeth, you focus back on your cake and shove aside the sinking feeling in your chest. 

Idiot, you criticize yourself. Now why would you think that would work?

“Nothing, then?” Alyona clicks her tongue and takes up her own fork. “Do not fret, we will find him eventually, Seraph.”

“It’s not like I would know.” The air goes a temperature warmer—bodies stilling. 

While soulmate colorblindness was simply the reality of life, diagnosed colorblindness was still a curse that couldn’t be solved. If you ever saw your soulmate…you wouldn’t even know it. 

All because of that stupid accident. 

You act unbothered by the shift in the conversation and sigh. “You said you wanted to talk about your engagement,” your words remind the woman and she sets off into a tangent about the dress and the location after a moment of quiet concern. A church, she explained, the big one down the road where they’ll be a few days after the civil ceremony and the outer city venue. 

Alyona is only twenty, but you know that it’s incredibly common here to get married this early. Listening, you offer input here and there, but as it always does, the topic falls back to you as you eat the slice of cake dedicated to a dead man. 

Your knife-driven problem. 

The gifts. 

Already, you begin feeling uncomfortable.

“Aly,” you try to grumble, resisting the urge to eat the entire piece of Медовик as you put your utensil down. Your hand jerks over the table and you glare down at it in annoyance, ignoring the tensed nerves. “It’s not important—”

“How many more pieces of jewelry has he sent, hm? Letters?” The woman shivers and rubs at her arms. “It is horrendous behavior. Total fuck-up. And the fact that no one has caught him? Gah!”  

Your spine straightens itself, eyes sliding to the people gawking outside the window and seeing the multiple faces, shuffling bodies that pile next to each other like sardines in a can. 

“I just don’t want to think about it, okay?” You shake your head, turning away as a pit forms in your gut; realizing the fragility of your psyche when you think about the fact that anyone outside could be the source of your problem. The stalker. “If it’s just the gifts I can deal with them—the letters I never even read. If I ignore it they’ll stop eventually. All of this can be one big bad dream.” 

Your hand continues to shake on the table, not exactly in your realm of control just as the inability to walk in a straight line is. It was no wonder why they never let you do runway shows, you think sarcastically. You’d be stuck in a photographer’s room for the rest of your career.

Alyona pushes a strand of her hair out of her face. 

“Seraph…you know it does not work like that.” Of course you did, but asking for help was never your strong suit. And your mother had already given you three well-trained bodyguards to escort you to and from work—that was more than enough protection. 

When you think of the expensive parcels that had been dropped at AMA’s front desk you had to restrain the honey cake coming back up your gullet. All of them had been expensive; pieces you could afford on a model's pension but still wildly elegant to even touch much less own in multitude. Gold bracelets inlay with black opal and sapphire, necklaces with Tanzanite, and rings of ruby, your mother had told you this when you had brought them to her off of only seeing washed-out tones on your part. 

You never showed anyone the letters; they lived in a lockbox under the bed in your apartment. Concerningly, lately the ‘presents’ had been losing the plot. Random bits of glass and shiny items—a slow deterioration but somehow even more scary. 

Even the older women at the front desk were softening the usual sneers they wore when you walked in every day, no longer chiding you in Russian they know you can’t understand. The way they seemed pitiful rubbed you the wrong way.

You pull your jacket closer to you and rub a hand slowly along your thigh in a soothing gesture. Aly pulls her brows in. 

“I want to help you, little Солнышко, but I don’t think this is something I can fix with my womanly charms.” Your lips release a snort, tiny chuckles hitting the air. 

Alyona joins you before silence once again lapses. 

“...Do you feel alright?” Your friend asks honestly. Worry was plain on her face. 

You smile, but your lungs tighten in your chest while your heart acts like a dancer and lightly skips beats. “By next month,” your hand shakes over your thigh, “all of this will be in the past. No one could keep this up forever. I just have to…wait it out. It’s only the gifts, I can live with that—jewelry isn’t hurting anybody except his wallet.” 

The woman narrows her eyes at you and frowns, but it’s not long before she goes back to her half of the Медовик and takes a bite with a moan of enjoyment. You rarely lied, so you supposed she had no trouble believing you.

If only you could fraud yourself like that.

“Quite a wealthy bastard, though, no?” Alyona slyly pokes fun and you blink quickly. 

“Aly!” 

“I am just saying!” 

You press your hand to your lips to hide your loud laugh, Yefim looking over with a certain airiness to his expression before Aleksandr jerks his shoulder to face him back forward. The two glare at each other as Petya stares violently at the front door—daring those outside to try and come in and ask for a picture. 

While you hadn’t come back to this bakery in a while, the three men always seemed to pick the exact same table; the one with the perfect view of everything going on near the door. While it was a small distance away, it allowed for quick action in any direction. 

You blink away as the wooden boards under the bodyguards’ table creak again, loud enough to cause Alyona to frown in that direction. Petya sends an annoyed look down and scowls. 

“How do you know he’s not just stealing them,” you bring back the conversation, smirking. “You know? Maybe he’s a,” your voice lowers an octave in fake secrecy and Aly’s eyes roll, amused, “jewel thief.”

“God above,” the woman huffs. “That would be the twist.”

The both of you joked and picked fun, but that half an hour went past quickly, and soon it was time to get back to the agency so you could change again. The photographer couldn’t take pictures of air and play it off as you with a smile and a nervous stutter. 

As you stand you stare long at the cases of baked goods, licking the remnants of cream off your lips 

“We can buy another, Seraph,” Aly suggests, fixing her coat. You shake your head immediately. 

“No, no, I’ve already had enough sugar. I had two muffins for breakfast. Chocolate.” Your face pulls into a cringe at the words. “Cheat day.” 

Alyona’s lips go tighter, but she says nothing as her hair is puffed out of her face. She out of everyone knows how demanding modeling can be—your entire life is dictated by two things: calories, and appointments. 

You turn to Yefim with his wavy hair and his soft, dimpled, smile; casual eyes. Not your soulmate, based on his lack of reaction the first time you had met, but in that time you’d grown a tiny crush on the man, admittingly. He was kind and treated you with respect. Capable and reliable—how could you ask for more than that? 

“Yefim?” Your voice calls out, a smile on your lips. The man looks over and blinks in surprise. He clears his throat, stuttering as he shifts in his seat. The wood tilts slightly under him and he steadies himself on the edge of the table.

“Да, Ma’am?” 

Restraining a giggle, you cock your head as Alyona snorts.

“Do you want a slice of Bird Milk Cake?” Petya slides you a blank look and Aleksandr taps his fingers to the table. You poke fun, “For when you’re on break, of course.” 

Yefim’s eyes sparkle in their colorless state, a handsome smile taking his lips back along his face. He makes a move to stand up, floorboards squealing loudly as weight is lessened. 

“I would be in your debt—”

The world explodes into a slate-gray blaze of heat and hellfire. 

Your body is thrown back before you can even begin to understand that you’re in danger, panic completely bypassed for a total blank sensation of confusion. Spine slapping into the glass of the window, your form is hurled by a vast boom out of the bakery entirely before it slams to the concrete multiple feet away. 

You slide, rolling in a mess of limbs and ripped silk. For a good moment, you have no idea what just transpired, confusedly lifting your head from the ground and blinking below you as everything rings. Your hand grips the side of your head, the thick liquid seeping in between your fingers as you peel it back and look with shaky vision. 

Blackened blood is coated along your palm, slipping along your wrist as you tilt your hand up in horrified uncertainty. 

Everything comes back in a millisecond of screaming and running feet; like a switch being flipped. You snap your head back to what remains of the bakery as blood slides down your temple. 

“A-Alyona?!” Heels sliding, you stand but stumble back down just as quickly, hands slapping against the ground as you raggedly cough more, chest burning from the force at which you’d been thrown. 

What the hell had just happened? An explosion? 

There was little left of the bakery beside the front door, smoke billowing out of the broken windows as gray flames spark with the familiar sound of burning material—a sharp burn is taken into your nostrils. 

Dragging an arm forward, you grasp something warm and wet in an attempt to get up again. You look to the side and immediately scream at what you see.

Yefim’s upper body was completely fine besides the burns and the lack of his hair, the peeling flesh…it was the absence of the entire lower body that struck you with waves of horror. You slam a hand to your lips and wail, slipping back on kicking legs as tears well in your tear ducts.

Guts were leaking over the concrete, and the dark, gaping, wound spread a fast puddle out around the sputtering that made his chest look like it was moving. Eyes flutter, lashes flapping quickly. 

He looked confused, and that was perhaps the worst part of it. 

Yefim died only half a man, his entrails pooling out of his ribcage, only twenty seconds after you’d asked him if he wanted a piece of cake. Your fingers hide the loud sobs as you stare into this blank expression, hand shaking so bad that it hits your nose. 

“I…I,” you stutter, shapes and flashes rushing back and forth at the sides of your vision. Pressure holds at your left shoulder. 

“Seraph!” The sentence falls off into feminine Russian cursing and screaming, a grip shaking you back and forth, urging you to listen. 

There are wails and the roar of cars, but you don’t have to be given a speech to know the truth about the toll as the fire burns hotter and the blood runs faster. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim are dead. They had been sitting on top of something that had triggered when Yefim had released weight from it. 

The creaky floorboards. 

“Seraph!” Alyona tries again, grabbing you under the shoulders and dragging you away from the corpse as bystanders’ phones flash with pictures being taken. There’s just so much screaming. “Seraph, please, we need to move! The fire is spreading!”

They had been sitting right on top of it. But…but they always sat there…they…they were always…

In the corner of your eye, a dark phantom looms across the street as the first sirens of the police cars race down the road; a burning silhouette of black mist and ashen smoke.

As the bakery burns and the corpse of Yefim grows cold, it slips away into the forming crowd.

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[missmarveledsblog]

Flumpy ( Jake Seresin x reader) part 15

summary : the news of twins is share and its countdown to when they come , more old faces come to help with new home and flumpy meets her neighbours in well true flumpy fashion ... a groove in the kitchen well has them waiting for the moment they been waiting for ...

warning : goofy fluffy humour , hormones , pregnancy is fast tracked , not proof read soz

previously on flumpy

Picture perfect moment was the only thing she could even remotely call it when she stood holding two pink baby onesies in her hand  .   they instantly said girl as she hinted the plural  wasn’t til jake got bored and told them …

“ i put two buns in that oven” slight fear in his voice as he spoke given the shock still prevalent . 

“ oh OHHH TWINS .. SHE’S HAVING TWINS “. 

“ well done bob you adorable human … i wanna adopt him “ she sighed . 

“ we’re not adopting baby on board “ jake rolled his eyes .

“ stop pouting you can’t adopt a fully grown man even if he reminds you of bob from the minions pretty girl “ rooster patted her cheek . 

“ ok skipping that … twins” nat asked. 

“ yeah shy one in there or trouble i not too sure , hid her little ass behind her sister , i thought my kid had extra arm and head for a moment” she shuddered. “ ohhh “ her eyes widened as she held her stomach .

“ is the babies … her sit down .. call a doctor or hospital “ jake lead her to the stool as rest panicked.  “ darling what is it speak to me “ . 

“ we’re gonna need a bigger house “ she smiled up brightly as they all stopped. 

Saturdays were usually beach days  this saturday was driving around looking at bigger houses .  she had it written down a checklist of what their dream home would look like and honestly after she scared the shit out of him and took breather well it was a better step .  they would be crowded in the house and rooster was still going to be living with them plus more rooms when guest stayed  , for peanut and he knew future rescues he was still waiting for the day she’d come home with a box of ducks it hasn’t happened yet but he was waiting for it .  most of the house felt off , they didn’t scream home   til this one it wasn’t too far from base nor beach or hard deck . it had big spacious  back  garden  and she was smiling whole time .  a basement the two men  already swapping ideas to convert into man cave .  perfection  even more when they’re offer was accepted  watching the dagger squad as well as her dad and beau simpson started moving things.  Anytime she even so much as look at box it was taking up away from her .    she watched as they moved around  ready to slip out the door to see a new neighbor and a reason to see it was too good to be true .

“ welcome to the neighborho… y/n “ 

“ michelle” she groaned. 

“ you live here?” her face scrunched up . 

“ jake we’re moving again “ she called back . 

“ not happening flumpy dear” he chuckled  til he saw the demon woman standing at the door. “ i have the realtors number”he chuckled awkwardly. 

“ bye have a good day , tell annabeth we say hello” she called closing the door . 

“ hey i wanted to say hello to our new neighbor “ rooster  ran up . 

“ you really don't “ they both said heading back into the house . 

“ oh oh we need food i can least do that right “ she called pulling out her phone . 

“ who’s our neighbor?” rooster asked confused. 

It seemed having the navy set up house was both proficient , getting the navy to set up a nursery well other story completely . she was aloud paint as far as she could reach  while she grumbled  “ i’m not going to break the damn ladder” along the way.  7 months and three weeks pregnant it was getting more real , the house was coming together and  peanut was thriving ,   jake was home and she was supported by a bigger family she ever thought she would have .  it was all so magical and amazing she had all of this . 

“ baby are you crying?”  jake put down the screw . 

“Again” javy muttered. 

“ i’m just happy this time or mental  but i never thought i would have all this “ she sniffled. 

“ it is a nice house” fanboy agreed. 

“ not the house idiot all of you even luke “ she cried . 

“ i think she happy to have us as family and friends “ rooster smiled kissing her head. 

“ we love you too kiddo” beau smiled. 

“Shit she made simpson soft” payback whispered . 

The dinging of her door as she looked around the room  wondering who else it could be then dreaded thought of michelle and annabeth coming to take jake from her set in .  but what she wasn’t expecting was . 

“ hey princess “  the man smiled. 

“ uncle ron , solomon  , bernie” she gasp  before breaking into more tears alerting the others to the front door . 

“Slider , warlock , hondo  good to see you guys “ pete hugged the men . 

“ well anything for this one “ slider smiled hugging her to his side. 

 “ shit you are like part of top gun royalty “ jake smiled in awe. 

“ so your the one that knocked up my niece huh?” he stood a little taller . 

“ at ease  we’re here to help not scare him”  the voice called as sarah kazansky  pushed her way in. “ hey baby girl” she smiled hugging her tightly . 

“ you got uncle ron here” y/n sniffled . 

“ well he wanted to meet the S.O.B that got his baby pregnant “  sarah laughed as jake gulped . 

“ but we told him what great young man  he is “ warlock chuckled. 

“ i swear he did this to mav back in the day too” hondo whispered. 

“ well he was my husbands  well husband “ sarah rolled her eyes . 

“ we were never together “ pete spoke up . 

“ the eyes  they never lie…. Look all my family is here , except penny where is that woman “ she stood  looking around . 

“ getting you naco’s like you asked “ nat snorted .

 “ ah she’s good for you “ she patted her father on his cheek as she showed her new arrivals the new house still crying along the way but they sort of could understand her. 

“ your screwed if you ever hurt that girl you know that right ?” javy turned to jake. 

“ i ain’t gonna hurt her…. But yeah i’m fucked “ he winced . 

Sitting around her dinning table as they  all share stories of good ole day , the warming feeling of the people she loved most all in one space  , ruby and penny showing their faces not long after basically  top guns hall of fame sitting this was what life was for all this love in one room  and even though few couldn’t be there well they were there in away in spirit and stories .   jake could see the happiness radiating off of her  , how relaxed and peaceful she was basking in the glow of the past and how he couldn’t wait for their new future as scary and daunting it would be he was ready whatever was thrown their way as long as they were happy he was happy. 

8 months pregnant on twins not easy as she felt her soul literally being sucked out of her body and now with her maternity leave starting  honestly she wanted to pop em out so she had something to do .  she and peanut got to chill for bit  as she waved jake and roo off slightly sad to be home alone . she got to sitting on the porch as peanut enjoyed the fence yard  she couldn’t help picture the girls playing with the pup . what she didn’t like was coming out to greet bradley and jake standing with the toned up giggling barbie who she could only  known who and why she was there.  Huffing and she waddle down the path. 

“ hey my handsome men “ she cooed as the woman shot a glare. 

“ hey baby how are you” jake smiled brightly honestly waiting for anything to get him away from the girl . 

“ oh is this your little sister?” the woman chided. 

“ you must be annabitch.. Beth “ y/n smiled. 

“ this is my beautiful girl i was telling you about” jake held her close. 

“ oh your y/n my moms told me all about you “ she rolled her eyes. 

“ yeah sure she did , can we help you ?” y/n tapped her foot . 

“ you even old enough to have kid? “ she scoffed .

“ i mean gotta trap em one way keep your sugar daddy around “ she winked . 

“ she thinks she funny” jake rolled his eyes 

“ i think she is “ rooster snorted. 

“ when you need real woman not a little girl  call me “ the woman smiled sweetly . 

“ and when i need dollar store extensions  i call you bye annabitch have good day sit in a microwave   “ y/n waved  before jake led her away. “ little girl?” “ she growled waddling back up the path. 

“ big girl  very big … not in width  though so skinny” rooster called as she glared at the man . 

“ my beautiful woman huh  she  jealous cause your so radiant and gorgeous “ he cooed  kissing her cheek. 

“ i bet michelle sent her trying to have her own barbie and ken to show off to stupid friends “ she mocked the womans voice as they walked into  house .  

8 month  2 weeks pregnant she wanted it over , she was done  ready throw into the towel missing bending and seeing her feet. She waddles around the kitchen making more food singing along to her  playlist telling the two men she could make breakfast .  swaying along it really was a show with their meal.

“ looking like a chef i’m a five star michelin  .. get it cause im cooking . ��oh shit the felix effect is strong” she gasped holding onto the counter  as their eyes all looked to the floor . 

“ darling ..” 

“ pretty girl was that ?” 

“ my water breaking yes “ she stood leg opened as she looked up at too men . “ this time we can go the hospital “ she winced . 

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